Coming in at night all the desert highways. Crackle with the static of a thousand little radios. Everyone talking, no-one listening. Well by now I should expect that.
You walk the thinnest of the ice, so easy to hurt. We drove through the dark in the pouring rain and barely said a word. So dress your wounds as best you can and close your tired eyes.
Turn left at the lights about 50 yards down. There's a pub in the corner and I'll meet you inside. About quarter to eight and we'll go into town. And find out what everybody's been saying about us.
Look at my eyes - you know what it is. I want you, I want you. The way your body moves beneath that dress. And all the nights I've spent away alone in sleeplessness.