| Oh won’t you take a short walk with me
|
| We’ll stroll down to the seven dials
|
| And by the light of the waning moon we’ll see strange people
|
| And strange times
|
| And what strange times!
|
| It really doesn’t matter where I’ve been
|
| I can only tell you what I’ve seen
|
| And it may come now as some surprise
|
| To see what’s really going on in my eyes
|
| Where the meets narrow alleys
|
| Seven dials to count all the days
|
| And with the stranger for enquiringly face for each to catch the circling rays
|
| (the circling rays)
|
| It really don’t matter what he’s seen
|
| But can he really tell you where he’s been
|
| And it will come now as no surprise
|
| To see what’s really going on in his eyes
|
| Make yourself warm come inside
|
| There’s no slight intended, well nothing implied, a
|
| An invitation to sit side by aside
|
| With the thief and the beggar and even the snide
|
| No pretense, nothing to hide
|
| He dwells on every single corner
|
| Drives every winding street in vain
|
| The overcrowded eternal gaze
|
| And doubles back his weary steps again (steps again)
|
| Make yourself warm come inside
|
| There’s no slight intended, well nothing implied, a
|
| An invitation to sit side by aside
|
| With the thief and the beggar and even the snide
|
| Make yourself warm come inside
|
| Strap yourself in we’re going for a ride
|
| No pretense, nothing to hide
|
| The thief and the beggar, the jilted bride |