Down in the valley

		In a small, quiet town

		The wind rolls lazy

		Through broken windchimes

	

		The shops and the stores

		Are open but empty

		And a few people walk

		Down the dusty old streets



		The cast of this town

		Like Molly the book-keeper

		And there’s Fred the horse man

		Who’s long lost his horses

		

		There’s Dave, who sits 

		In front of the rusty bike shop

		Smoking cigars and pipes

		Reading last year’s paper



		And poor Max the banker

		Never seen a penny or client

		So he sighs behind his desk

		And sips welfare coffee



		There’s Sally the house-wife

		And Vince her old husband

		Their minds on their children

		Long since left home



		The town in the valley

		Down, down in the valley

		With no name to claim

		And so frozen in time



		Then one day he came

		He came to the town

		That had lost his name

		The day Drew Morrison came



		He wore a trench coat that fell

		All the way down to his knee

		They wondered, they did, on who he could be

		Someone different, they whispered

		Different than Vince or Molly or Max

		Different than Sally or Dave or Fred

		Different than all the things

		That the nameless town had



		Drew wasn’t rich, and he wasn’t a tourist

		He was simply Drew Morrison

		Black hair and green eyes

		But things were different



		And on the day the Drew Morrison came

		Everything changed, in the town with no name

		And nothing was ever the same

		The day Drew Morrison came