Well, Tommy woke that morning

with a headfull of rocks

and Sylvia was in shock.

The story they'd been faking

had frozen on their lips

and fallen through the brush of fingertips

and though they packed their bags,

ready for the road,

the curtains and the bedroom door

stayed closed.

For Sylvia and Tommy

this is a curtain call

they've been running away for years

but pride in flight

precedes a certain fall.

So Tommy rubs his stubble

as if to check his face is there

and Sylvia combs her hair

just like nothing really happened

they'll carry on as before...

but this thing won't work, will it, any more.

And though the bags are packed

ready for the road

the curtains and the bedroom door

stay closed.

For Sylvia and Tommy

there's nowhere left to hide...

they've been running for years

to find some kind of thrill

to take away the emptiness

that they both feel inside.

Making the fictional

out of the matter of fact;

masquerade the picture

but now the frame's all cracked.

For Sylvia and Tommy

there's nothing left to try

they've been running for years

to find some kind of life

that offers an excitement

that the rest of us pass by.

So Tommy woke that morning

with a headfull of rocks

and Sylvia was in shock.

This story they'd been faking

was frozen on their lips

and falling through the brush of fingertips

and though the bags are packed

ready for the road

the curtains and the bedroom door

stay closed.

For Sylvia and Tommy

there's nowhere left to go

they've been running away so long

there's just no strength to carry on

they can't get back to what they knew

a life abandoned once and long ago.

(PH - Piano, Vox;

David Lord - Keyboards, Orchestral Arrangement;

Stuart Gordon - Violin)