You got your ticket and your hotel keys. And your overnight bag at your feet. You're looking down on the tropical trees. While the Spanish maids pick up the sheets.
Go and tell Lord Grenville that the tide is on the run.. It's time to haul the anchor up and leave the land astern.. We'll be gone before the dawn returns..
Oh come away from the day, here I stay. Living on the bottom of the sea. Down metal snake corridors steely grey. Engines hum for nobody but me. No sound comes from the sea above me.
With your photographs of Kitty Hawk. And the biplanes on your wall. You were always Amy Johnson. From the time that you were small. No schoolroom kept you grounded.
You told the man in the Broadway Hotel. Nothing was stranger than being yourself. And he replied, with a tear in his eye. Love was a rollaway. Just a cajole away.
Lucy worked a different club every day. And though she put her mind to it. Her heart was never in it. She stayed around just long enough to get paid. She won't pass the time with you.
What if you reached the age of reason. Only to find there was no reprieve. Would you still be a man for all seasons?. Or would you just have to leave.
Nothing that's forced can ever be right. If it doesn't come naturally, leave it. That's what she said as she turned out the light. And we bent our backs as slaves of the night.
Find another lover tomorrow. Go find another lover today. You've been so long on lonely street. That you're surely falling into decay. It's time to reconstruct yourself.
While travelling northwards. On a back country lane. I came on the village. Where first I grew. And stopped to climb up. The hill once again. Looking down from the tracks.
The wands of smoke are rising. From the walls of the Bastille. And through the streets of Paris. Runs a sense of the unreal. . The Kings have all departed.
Oh, you slipped away from the harbor side. In the mornin bright and clear. And your sails were filled with the risin wind. And you laughed for all to hear.
I was making my way through the wasteland. The road into town passes through. I was changing the radio stations. With my mind on you. Oh your friends call you "Lily Paloma".
You always were a city kid though you were country raised. And back in some forgotten time we shared the cold north days. But the simple life was not your style, and you just had to escape.
It seems to me as though I've been upon this stage before. And juggled away the night for the same old crowd. These harlequins you see with me, they too have held the floor.