Stan

All over town the dreamers have landed
starting a brand new day
Somewhere downstairs a kettle is boiling
whistling hard, slowly blowin' away
Down here on earth it's Saturday morning
waiting for the start of play
On the happy hunting grounds of winter
at three o'clock this afternoon
Over the moon

All of my dreams I play number seven
two feet clear of the ground
Born on the voices of forty-odd thousand
down to the line, over for Morty to find
And there in the back of the net in slow motion
the meaning of life has been found
On the happy hunting grounds of winter
at three o'clock this afternoon
Over the moon

And I'm glad I saw Stanley

Over the hills and into the heavens
back into the old space age
Was it my dad who took me to Blackpool
to carry the torch, borrow the touch of the sage
Or was it my luck to grow up in a sunset
reluctantly turning the page
On the happy hunting grounds of winter
at three o'clock this afternoon
Over the moon

And I'm glad I saw Stanley