in the shabby tower, head down, sky bound,
corridors so cheap, barely stand
and clutching the music, so varied and sweet
half in tune, half complete.

in the harbour town, perfect, sunsets
people keep their yachts close at hand
the carparks are full of the giddy and gay
as the band slips away

all we need is something to sing,
to turn her simple head.
all we need is something to sing,
send us off to bed.

the carparks are full of the giddy and gay,
as the band slips away.