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So this is where he came to hide |
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When he ran from you |
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In a private detective's overcoat |
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And dirty dead man's shoes |
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The pretty things of Knightsbridge |
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Lying for a minister of state |
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Are a far cry from the nod and wink |
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Here at traitor's gate |
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|
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'Cause the high heel he used to be has been ground down |
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And he listens for the footsteps that would follow him around |
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[Chorus:] |
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To murder my love is crime |
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But will you still love |
|
A man out of time |
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|
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There's a tuppeny hapenny millionaire |
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Looking for a fourpenny one |
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With a tight grip on the short hairs |
|
Of the public imagination |
|
|
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But for his private wife and kids somehow |
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Real life becomes a rumour |
|
Days of dutch courage |
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Just three French letters and a German sense of humour |
|
|
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He's got a mind like a sewer and a heart like a fridge |
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He stands to be insulted and he pays for the privilege |
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[Chorus] |
|
|
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The biggest wheels of industry |
|
Retire sharp and short |
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And the after dinner overtures |
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Are nothing but an after thought |
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Somebody's creeping in the kitchen |
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There's a reputation to be made |
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Whose nerves are always on a knife's edge |
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Who's up late polishing the blade |
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Love is always scarpering or cowering or fawning |
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You drink yourself insensitive and hate yourself in the morning |
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[Chorus] |
