| I hope your adventures are still misconceived
|
| And how are you?
|
| Don’t say «fine»
|
| I enclose to you a little cheque
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| For your gambling debts
|
| And your secret lives
|
| I don’t know how you’d write to me
|
| But you could try
|
| Send it in the morning with a lick of light
|
| Fire it into the dead of night
|
| Oh, you might not recognise me
|
| When I get back
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| Are you still coming last or first?
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| Stay out of the middle
|
| And roll your dice
|
| Nothing is the end of the world
|
| Except the end of the world
|
| So hold your light
|
| Oh, this postcard may beat me home
|
| May beat me home, I know
|
| Have you tried Montaigne on friendship?
|
| Maybe give it a go
|
| Did England win the World Cup?
|
| We don’t get mail or papers here
|
| But that doesn’t mean that I’m giving up
|
| And if you write to me, then it might appear
|
| I don’t know how you’d get to me
|
| But you could try
|
| Send it with the calling of the evening light
|
| And fire it into a summer’s night
|
| Oh, you might not recognise me
|
| When I get back
|
| Oh, you might not recognise me
|
| Oh, you might not recognise me when I get back
|
| Oh, you might not recognise me
|
| Oh, you might not recognise me when I get back
|
| What’s your latest obsession?
|
| And tell me, how is your mum?
|
| And what will your face look like
|
| When I see you again, my son? |