There’s a silver rail    And a rusty nail   To hang her tired dreams on.      And the silver planes   Flying low again    ????? in superstition      The bricks start to fall like so...   So many teeth.   The bricks start to fall like so…   Many teeth.      The hole in the wall leads clear down to the sea.      And all your silver rails   And your rusty nails   Can’t hold your tired dreams now.      And the silver planes will fly low again,   Still steamed in superstition.      The bricks start to fall like so…   So many teeth.   The bricks start to fall like so…   Many teeth.      The hole in the wall leads clear down to the sea.