| I never feared the rain
|
| Until you turned to me
|
| And said you’d failed again
|
| It makes a perfect day so lame
|
| And leads us halfway
|
| To nowhere…
|
| And so the players
|
| Have changed
|
| Soon we’ll memorise the names
|
| But somehow something’s
|
| Never quite the same
|
| Still we’ll stake a claim
|
| You can count us in again
|
| Cos' everyone’s a winner baby
|
| Hedge your bets
|
| Get set and maybe
|
| We could be the first
|
| To cross the line…
|
| Get up, get set, get ready
|
| Get high, get low, get even
|
| Cos' we’re living
|
| In inimitable style
|
| Chasing the ultimate prize…
|
| You’d make a fine millionaire
|
| It’s only natural to celebrate
|
| But someone’s got to
|
| Be there to pay
|
| And we never get there…
|
| So take some time on our own
|
| We burn enough alone
|
| Close but still not fully grown
|
| Pulling marrow from a bone
|
| But there’s no turning back
|
| So count us in again…
|
| Cos' everyone’s a winner baby
|
| Hedge your bets
|
| Get set and maybe
|
| We could be the first
|
| To cross the line…
|
| Get up, get set, get ready
|
| Get high, get low, get even
|
| Cos' we’re living
|
| In inimitable style
|
| Chasing the ultimate prize…
|
| Going back to the old house
|
| The Marigolds just go to show
|
| That some of us should
|
| Never have left home
|
| But see I’m still counting
|
| Another flash in the pan
|
| A quick and instant forming tan
|
| It seems to grow on me
|
| Taking inches from a mile
|
| But I’m all for throwing
|
| It on the line… |