Dawn, he's in a postcard of the dawn,
Where the knives of light
have left the dark night tattered and torn.
The firmamental cars
on the highway of the stars
are doing ninety (for your love)
He's in a corner on the right
the sole survivor of the night
and it's you he's thinking of.

And you, you only think of him,
dropping him a line
'cos he's got no time to swim.
They're closing all the doors
to his existential shores
they'll leave him naked and alone
and you can't help him now,
he's in the waters of the South
sinking like a stone...

Running from the snapping jaws,
You know he ain't got time to pause
there's one last door between him and you
look out babe, he'll be coming through
(as soon as you admit that you're the cause).

Gone, with a squad of crooked creatures
You saw a film of his escape
But you hardly recognized his features.
His seer's sight had lied
about the other side
no-one was waiting when you arrived.
You dared not hesitate
even so, you got there late
Who takes who for one last ride?

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