118

I’m standing at the roadside on the 118

it’s freezing cold I’m dead tired

a haze lies on the landscape and I’m shivering

and all the falling stars seem to say goodbye

as the rime is gently creeping right over my feet

my eyes are following the white lines on the straightaway street

swear that after the landing and after the pain

I’ll think back of you

every time every time it rains

I hit the road now here on the 118

it’s freezing cold I’m dead tired

it’s eight thousand miles to where I don’t wanna be

but still I’m leaving and I kind of wonder why

it was a great from the beginning to the closing scene

I count those hundreds of dead flies on the dirty windscreen

you changed my paradigm and aspects

you’re my passport to fame

I’ll think back of you

every time every time it rains