Haven't the foggiest, faintest idea
Half of the stillness of a soap opera actor
I just sorta wish, sorta wish, sorta wish that you wished you were here
That's not how it appears
I've never featured in your scenes, never will
I said your name in a prayer
A prayer I said to the air last year
How I would live as a prisoner
It's all total bullshit, Tiffany interiors
Ruched red velvet security cameras

It's the quiet times that really do me in
Disastrous indecision, walking in the shadow of a drawing pin
In a raincoat, on a Monday etc
Mocking all of my Hockney ephemera
Rare plagiarisms, superimpositions of Karen and Cohen

So you can close your eyes and think of him
And I can lie back and think of Ekland
And we needn't make a sound, we're the talk of the town
Just lay your hands down on my skin
On my skin

O behind us the screaming of trains
O behind us the drowning of dreams
O behind us the tail and the spin
And that sound in the wings
Babe, it's a small violin
See I've been dreaming in horrific collodion
Grand delusions only fit for Napoleon

Once upon an acid glance I might have reeled you in
When Virginia Reel was the dance, and you were shy and I, smitten
I could've reached into my pocket, rummaged for a promise
Said something ironic in a voice like Dylan Thomas
And you would have let him down
But morning is broken