| Your father has just left your mother, | 
| gone off to live with his latest lover: | 
| she sits there, just staring. | 
| So you get back to your own flat | 
| because the atmosphere in there | 
| is so bad you can’t bear it. | 
| And the people you were going to America with | 
| just left on the dawn plane | 
| without you, | 
| without you. | 
| The people in the downstairs flat | 
| are no longer there now because they left | 
| the gas tap on, they’re all dead. | 
| So you’ve no-one left to talk to, | 
| you just lie there in melancholy, | 
| half-naked on your unmade bed. | 
| And the people you were going to Africa with | 
| just left on the Southern Star | 
| without you, | 
| without you. | 
| Yes, the haze that’s been forming round your window-panes | 
| is now protracted and poisoned | 
| and you cannot feel a portion of the world outside. | 
| Can you imagine the way you’d feel | 
| if all these things had happened to you | 
| and the doctor says you’re dying? | 
| That is the way that I feel now | 
| on finding that your love belongs | 
| to someone else and not I. | 
| My chance of heaven has just blown away | 
| upon a passing cloud and there is nothing that I can do without you. | 
| The people you were going to have left, gone far away | 
| and you’re lonely. |