| All along the riverbank
|
| Nobody seems to know
|
| They heard nothing, saw even less
|
| Of the hunger in their souls
|
| Safety first or safety last
|
| I wish I could have helped
|
| Those poor unfortunate widows standing
|
| Waiting for their sailor boys
|
| Old Madame Nhu, yes madame knew
|
| Yes madame knew
|
| Down they came to look around
|
| Round that riverbank
|
| For names or numbers or anything they could find
|
| Written there on the wall
|
| 'Cause somebody seemed to know
|
| But no one was prepared to tell
|
| Anything they’d learnt to love about long ago
|
| Anything at all they’d learnt to love long ago
|
| With the cold people getting colder
|
| Like babysitters in their graves
|
| Satisfied as heretic vicars passing on
|
| Send them running on ahead
|
| Picking up the windy trash instead
|
| Like foulmouthed people, open-heart surgery creatures
|
| Crawling back inside of you
|
| All along the riverbank
|
| Nobody will ever know
|
| What fools and their monies, what sailors and their honeys
|
| Got stung one evening there
|
| 'Cause the stones around their necks
|
| Are the stones on the riverbank
|
| 'Cause the stones around their necks
|
| Are the stones on the riverbank |