Wendy & I lived for a time in a coastal town we did not enjoy much. If you know it,  you'll recognise some of the reasons why. Sadly there will be a lot of people who don't recognise the clues but still  think "that's my town."  There are plenty of them like this.

Well some roads lead you to glory, and some roads lead you to pain

And some roads just come to an end, and that’s where you have to remain.

And you don’t always notice the difference, or at least you don’t at the time.

We got it wrong. It’s a shame, but that’s how we came,

To the town at the end of the line

No, don’t get me wrong; it’s not like some outpost of hell

Years taught me to hate it. I can tell you I learned that so well.

  

Well maybe the White Witch had been there, and withered the place with a curse.

Every day you were stuck in a deepening rut between a bad week and a worse

And the wind would never blow round you; it would cut through you just like a knife

In the damp and the cold, feel your soul growing old

In the town at the end of the line.

 

I guess you could say that the pace of life there is slow

On a night on the town you sit in a bar and complain that there’s nowhere to go

 

The taxis line up in the High Street, took us weeks to work out the code

And they’re burning the boats and closing the shops and hope’s lying dead in the road

Ask anyone what is the problem and they’ll tell you that everything’s fine

The old men in their tower hang on to the power

In the town at the end of the line.

 

Half of the town don’t know what work clothes are for

And you’re still a part of the young generation if you don’t remember the war.

 

Well we knew that we had to be leaving, that we travelled just one step to far

When I said as a joke, “I’m too good for this place” and everyone said, “Yes you are”.

Though we got away with no damage, I check back from time to time,

But nothing has changed, they all go on the same

In the town at the end of the line