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So here we are, queuing on the street |
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The ground keeps sticking to your feet, it's early. |
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The queue is a thousand strong |
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The town is closing down |
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Businesses are turning to the shadows |
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As the shutters go down |
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I hate to say |
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I could be sold |
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The shutters |
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I was leaving here |
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Nice to meet you, on your way |
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I'm gladly watching the walls come tumbling down |
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What you pulling out your hair for? |
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Let's dance as it hits the floor. (x2) |
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Every few decades the plans tend to go astray |
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The blue is turning to the grey, it's the end of the headache |
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Everybody is at home, and the streets are alone |
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The only sound is papers that are blown |
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By the winds from the sea |
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I hate to say |
|
I could be sold |
|
The shutters |
|
I was leaving here |
|
Nice to meet you, but on your way |
|
I'm gladly watching the walls come tumbling down |
|
What you pulling out your hair for? |
|
Let's dance as it hits the floor. (x2) |
