| Do you fancy a drink
|
| I know a place called the Brink
|
| Do you wanna go there
|
| I can buzz off your smile
|
| And there may be people you know there
|
| They’ve got no rule of thumb
|
| So on the counter I strum
|
| With my fingers
|
| And I adore the surprise
|
| Of tomorrows sunrise
|
| So I linger
|
| And I raise a glass, a smile or two
|
| This stuff strips the light from your bones
|
| And I would like to stay with you
|
| But I leave alone
|
| You’re the guy on the bus
|
| Who’s not quite one of us You hear laughter
|
| And they won’t let you in
|
| 'Cause everyone knows what you’re after
|
| So you wear the disguise
|
| Of your brilliant ties
|
| Drenched in flamboyance
|
| And you sit by the bar
|
| Much to everyone elses annoyance
|
| And I raise a glass, a smile or two
|
| This stuff strips the light from your bones
|
| And I would like to leave with you
|
| But I stay alone
|
| And I raise a glass, a smile or two
|
| This stuff strips the light from your bones
|
| And I would like to leave with you
|
| But this stuff strips the light
|
| This stuff strips the light
|
| This stuff strips the light
|
| From your bones
|
| From your bones |