Marillion
Passing Strangers
Strung out below a necklace of carnival lights
Cold moan, held on the crest of the night
I'm too tired to fight

So now we're passing strangers, at single tables
Still trying to get over
Still trying to write love songs for passing strangers
All those passing strangers
And the twinkling lies, all those twinkling lies
Sparkle with the wet ink on the paper