| If in stockinged feet you worry me
|
| With feelings, soft lies
|
| And too few binding bonds
|
| Drop your defences, let me rest my case
|
| Chelsea Bridge is falling
|
| Around our embrace
|
| Why shouldn’t I love you?
|
| Why shouldn’t I love you?
|
| The small rooms of poverty offer no escape
|
| The menu is the same
|
| Too much of nothing on your plate
|
| And when the lines of worry
|
| Don’t relax when you sleep
|
| Every dream’s a housing scheme
|
| A promise they won’t keep
|
| I followed your career
|
| From the classroom to the tears
|
| Through every well thumbed magazine
|
| The school report, the might’ve been
|
| The day that you stopped fighting
|
| Was the day you stopped delighting
|
| So paint the sneer back on your face
|
| Turn off the TV and pack your case
|
| Then we’ll be gone |