North Circular - Real Lies

Locked out like a dog in the rain

Bag on my shoulder and a pocket full of change

To buses' mercy in the early morning light

What did you do on Saturday night?

Please take me back to where I used to be

The road we used to share together, you and me

I can’t say for right or true or wrong

All I can say is I know where I belong

Post-ice, family of white lines and The Irish Times

The men who drink in A-road pubs and rave flyers

All lost in the same sea

I hear them say 'it's all yours, maestro' if you just give in to me

Give in to me

Suicide bridge and the morning watch

The royal fumes and fate wires and the things that pick up and kick off

And the roar of the spit on the road, the central reservation

The rapturous players at the petrol station

I love the smell of the fumes coming through the window

But you always rolled the window up

So I have a cigarette and play with the crescendo

I never knew but I had to give it up

These days I’m the wrong side of the window

Thought I saw your plates, you didn’t let me in, though

These days I say sorry a lot more

Never sure if it’s the bailiffs at the door

But I still walk the same road at night

Watch the same rain melt the same lights

Bag on my shoulder and a pocket full of rage

How many late nights does it take you to change?

Always thought you were holding me back but

Turns out you were just holding me together, well

I’m making movements, I’m big time, crashing, though

I walked for years in the heels of a hero

Suicide bridge and the morning watch

The royal fumes and fate wires and the things that pick up and kick off

And the roar of the spit on the road, the central reservation

The rapturous players at the petrol station

Come down over the hill, the lights in the distance glimmering

All shiney lit up for me and a little for you, too

Or so I thought

Or so I thought

These days I’m the wrong side of the window

Thought I saw your plates, you didn’t let me in, though

These days I say sorry a lot more

Never sure if it’s the bailiffs at the door

But I still walk the same streets at night

Watch the same rain melt the same lights

Bag on my shoulder and a pocket full of rage

How many late nights does it take you to change?