And from your bed you’ve come
and back into mine, as you’ve always done.
“I’m leaving my job,” she goes.
I said, “I’ll do the same.”
We went drinking and left on the evening train.
Without money you’re in prison.
We nicked the ladders, walked up to the house,
put the last bit in the van.
Couldn’t lock the front door, we didn’t know how.
I took out a cigarette, darkness fell.
“I’m not married,” she said.
I pushed up against her, she looked at me.
I looked back to see what she was at.
She’s had every kind of love,
with her broken down walk and high heels.
The street lights shone on her face
and when she danced she cried.
There’s tears and tragedy on stage and screen.
The fruit machine offers something for nothing,
and takes everything.
You get caught up in a car chase on a video game.