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They're pacing Piccadilly in packs again |
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And moaning for the mercy of a never come rain |
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The suns had enough and the simmering sky |
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Has the heaves and the hue of a woman on fire |
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Shop shutters rattle down and I'm cutting the crowd |
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All scented and descending from the satellite towns |
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The neon is graffiti singing make a new start |
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So I look for a plot where I can bury my broken heart |
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No, I know I won't forget you |
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But I'll forget myself if the city will forgive me |
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The man on the door has a head like Mars |
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Like a baby born to the doors of the bars |
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And surrounded by steam with his folded arms |
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He's got that urban genie thing going on |
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He's so mercifully free of the pressures of grace |
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Saint Peter in satin, he's like Buddha with mace |
|
He's so mercifully free of the pressures of grace |
|
Saint Peter in satin, he's like Buddha with mace |
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No, I know I won't forget you |
|
But I'll forget myself if the city will forgive me |
|
No, I know I won't forget you |
|
But I'll forget myself if the city will forgive me |
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Do you move through the room with a glass in your hand |
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Thinking too hard about the way you stand |
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Are you watching them pair off and drinking them long |
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Falling in love every second song |
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Do you move through the room with a glass in your hand? |
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Thinking too hard about the way you stand |
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Are you watching them pair off and drinking them long? |
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Are you falling in love, are you falling in love? |
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Are you falling in love every second song? |
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No, I know I won't forget you |
|
But I'll forget myself if the city will forgive me |
|
No, I know I won't forget you |
|
But I'll forget myself and the city will forgive me |
