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 from slumber.
Woken up; calmed like no other.
As you moan you’ll hear my laughter.
You grow old, I’ll grow young faster.

I don’t think that this makes too much sense.

Can’t you see I’m all used up.
I need something to come and feed me.