Текст: Barbara Dickson. Blood Brothers. One Summer Narration.

There's a few bob in your pocket and you've got good friends,
And it seems that summer's never coming to an end,
Young, free and innocent, you haven't got a care,
Apart from decidin' on the clothes you're gonna wear.
The street's turned into Paradise, the radio's singing dreams,
You're innocent, immortal, you're just fifteen.
And who'd dare tell the lambs in Spring,
What fate the later seasons bring.
Who's tell the girl in the middle of the pair
The price she'll pay forjust being there.
But leave them alone, let them go and play
They care not for what's at the end of the day.
For what is to come, for what might have been,
Life has no ending when you're sweet sixteen
It's just another ferryboat, a trip to the beach
But everything is possible, the world's within your reach
An' you don't even notice broken bottles in the sand
The oil in the water and you can't understand
How living could be anything other than a dream
When you're young, free and innocent and just eighteen.
And only if the three of them could stay like that forever,
And only if we could predict no change in the weather,
And only if we didn't live in life, as well as dreams
And only if we could stop and be forever, just eighteen