| Pour the petrol can, around this caravan
|
| And watch the flames take all you own
|
| There’s a girl who understands
|
| Like the back of her two hands
|
| She’s all you need to know
|
| 'Cause you search for years but you lose everything you find
|
| There’s braille for the deaf and a signpost for the blind
|
| There’s heaven for the cruel but the devil waits for the kind
|
| And you follow the blackbird home, through the early winter snow
|
| Your footprints track you through the grass
|
| And you ache just to smell her clothes
|
| And her cooking down on the stove
|
| You see her face in everyone you pass
|
| 'Cause you search for years but you lose everything you find
|
| There’s braille for the deaf and a signpost for the blind
|
| There’s heaven for the cruel but the devil waits for the kind
|
| And you walk down to her window
|
| Press your face against the glass
|
| Only to find that she is happy in his arms
|
| 'Cause you search for years but you lose everything you find
|
| There’s braille for the deaf and a signpost for the blind
|
| There’s heaven for the cruel but the devil waits for the kind |