| Take your white finger
|
| Slide the nail under the top and bottom buttons of my blazer
|
| Relax the fraying wool, slacken ties
|
| And I’m not to look at you in the shoe
|
| But the eyes find the eyes
|
| Find me and follow me through corridors, refectories and files
|
| You must follow, leave this academic factory
|
| You will find me in the matinée, the dark of the matinée
|
| It’s better in the matinée, the dark of the matinée is mine
|
| Yes, it’s mine
|
| Time every journey to bump into you accidentally
|
| I charm you and tell you of the boys I hate, all the girls I hate
|
| All the words I hate, all the clothes I hate
|
| How I’ll never be anything I hate
|
| You smile, mention something that you like
|
| Oh, how you’d have a happy life if you did the things you like
|
| Find me and follow me through corridors, refectories and files
|
| You must follow, leave this academic factory
|
| You will find me in the matinée, the dark of the matinée
|
| It’s better in the matinée, the dark of the matinée is mine
|
| Yes, it’s mine
|
| So I’m on BBC Two now
|
| Telling Terry Wogan how I made it
|
| And what I made is unclear now
|
| But his deference is and his laughter is
|
| My words and smile are so easy now
|
| Yes, it’s easy now
|
| Yes, it’s easy now
|
| Find me and follow me through corridors, refectories and files
|
| You must follow, leave this academic factory
|
| You will find me in the matinée, dark of the matinée
|
| It’s better in the matinée, the dark of the matinée
|
| You will find me and follow me through corridors, refectories and files
|
| You must follow, leave this academic factory
|
| You will find me in the matinée, the dark of the matinée
|
| Better in the matinée, the dark of the matinée is mine
|
| Yes, it’s mine |