I’m in your childhood room, here on Churchville Avenue
There’s clothes of all sorts, spread out on your floor
A coat for a little girl, who grew into my world
A memory, of a time, from long before
From your window I see trees, Gypsy Hill Park in the breeze
And your voice, it whispers on the wind
It reads aloud, a note you wrote, a quote from Eleanor Roosevelt
A little something, about believing in your dreams
And I guess you could have stayed
But the world it couldn’t wait
There was something, a feeling deep inside
So you left your childhood room, here on Churchville Avenue
But it’s still there, every time you close your eyes
Looking out into the night, I can see those Christmas lights
Lighting up the the world for you and me
Snow’s falling from the sky, but it’s safe and warm inside
As I hold you, in my arms tonight
And I’ve come to realise only this
That the past is just a trick
It finds a way to pull us back inside
So I’m sitting in your room, here on Churchville Avenue
As I open up this door into your life