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Tales of the Road
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(Sullivan)
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The caravan flipped over two, three times
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Went spinning down the carriageway
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Breaking up into splinters
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Wheels turning around in the dust at the foot of the hill
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And all the old clothes, the pots and pans and the photographs
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The little things of those people's lives
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Strewn across the road
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We just want what we cannot have
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We've driven so far, we can never get back
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Sitting in the all night cafe in a curl of smoke
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Telling tales of the road
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By the glow of a flickering lighter
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We went stumbling forward through the corridor
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Up the broken stairway to the top of the trail of shattered glass
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Damp mattresses in the doorway, an old abandoned take-away
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Nothing much to tell us if and where you'd gone
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By now you could be miles away
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We all want what we cannot have
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We've driven so far that we can't get back
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Sitting in the all night cafe in a curl of smoke
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Telling tales of the road
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And everyone just keeps moving on, you turn around and find them gone
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The lights go out one by one, the prodigal son is not coming home
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Down at the ferrybridge junction
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Beneath the cooling towers a man stood hitching a ride
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And in the long grass at the side of the road his son was laid asleep
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He said - nothing's left to keep us in the city where we come from
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Take us far away from here - looking for work and the wishing-well
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This afternoon the sunlight spilled shadows across the golden hills
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They searched us at the border but they're not looking for what we're hiding
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They're not looking for what we're hiding
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We all want what we cannot have
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So far gone that we can't get back
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Sitting in the all night cafe in a curl of smoke
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Telling tales of the road
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Tales of the Road
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| New Model Army |
