Driven home back from the city.
Lead grey sky come wash us nearly.
Can`t you see there`s no horizon?
In this speeding place called London.
I don`t think that this makes too much sense.
Dampened soul come called fron slumber.
Woken up; calmed like no other.
As you moan you`ll hear my laughter
You grow old, I grow young faster.
I don`t think that this makes too much sense.
Can`t you see?
I`m all used up.
I need somebody to come and feed me.
