Modern Times

It's the kind of grey November day that washes away reflections
In the eyes of hotel porters
And the latticed wooden benches by the sea contain no travellers
Or Irish lady authors
And the girl in the raincoat walks the lanes of Brighton
With her collar turned against the wind
And hovers in the doorways of second-hand bookshops
Among the dust and fading print
And you're not the one she's thinking of
And you're not the one she really wants
Just a point along the line she's leaving from

She goes into a cafe, orders tea, looks at the menu
But there's nothing really on it
And the place is as deserted as a plaza in a heat-wave
And the cloth has jam upon it
But the girl in the raincoat doesn't stop to count the tea-leaves
Or turn to see the mists around the sun
For the winter's unfolding around her
And it's time for moving on
And you're not the one she's thinking of
And you're not the one she really wants
Just a station on the line she's leaving from

And so you sit there in the middle of the carpet
With her suitcases around you
And it comes to you she journeyed to the center of your life
But she never really found you
Just another girl in a raincoat
Who shared the passing of the days
And you're glad of the warmth that she gave you
And you hardly need to say
That she's not the one you're thinking of
No she's not the one you really want
Just a point along the line you're leaving from

Next Time

He heard the clatter of her heels in the street
The clock said half-past three
He lay there waiting in the dark to hear
The scraping of the front-door key
He wouldn't say to her
"Don't want to know where you were"
She wouldn't find him there
Next time

She missed the train, she felt the rain upon her face
It seemed to clear her head
She watched him drive into the night
A broken tail-light, a speck of red
She still felt his touch
It didn't seem to mean that much
She wouldn't go back there
Next time

When you were just a kid you loved
To go to movies in the afternoon
And so you left the factory
And got a job in the projection-room
Bette Davis plays
Ran away with the passing days
You'll be a movie-star
Next time

Apple Cider Re-Constitution

When we came to the station all the trains were rusty
The doors were open and the windows broken in
There was grass in all the cracks and the air hung musty
The travel posters were flapping in the wind
So we moved through the dust and gloom
Playing waiting games in the waiting-room
Lay our sleeping-bags out on the floor
And on Sunday morning easy rider comes to me with apple cider
Leaves me here without a place to go

If I followed the coast road, I'd be home by evening
The harbour lights still cut across the bay
From the slot machine arcade the lights go streaming
To the bikes outside the rock 'n' roll cafe
Ah but you know those small town blues
Are really too much to lose
There's nothing really there to go back for
And on Sunday morning easy rider comes to me with apple cider
Leaves me here without a place to go

Any railway station would be just fine, fine, fine
To settle down and wash the cobwebs from your head
Oh, if your situation's running dry, dry, dry
Find a waiting-room beneath the stars to make your bed'

Cause you know London can make your brain stall
The streets get cold and empty on a rainy night
So you duck into the subway station, you can hear the trains call
They want to take you to the Earl's Court Road, but it don't seem right
Cause it's na, na, na noowah
On the juke-box, singing in the burger bar
See the people's faces in the passing cars don't want to know
And on Sunday morning easy rider comes to me with apple cider
Leaves me here without a place to go

You have the most appealing surface I have seen
Bring it over here, lay it down by me
Don't mean to make you nervous, I just mean
To make you see, this is the place to be

When we came to the station all the trains were rusty
The air was empty and the platforms overgrown
There were old tin cans and cats and the doors were crusted
With mud and leaves and names carved long ago
And the rails go on for ever in a silver trail to the setting sun
You can follow them anywhere you want to go
And on Sunday morning easy rider comes to me with apple cider
Leaves me here without a need to know

The Dark And The Rolling Sea

Oh you slipped away from the harbour side
In the morning bright and clear
And your sails were filled with the rising wind
And you laughed for all to hear
But you never glanced at the ragged dance
Of your lovers on the quay
Don't call on them when the winds rise high
On the dark and the rolling sea

Oh you set your course for the furthest shores
And you never once looked back
And the flag you flew was a pirate cross
On a field of velvet black
And those landsmen who you but lately knew
Were left stranded on the lea
Don't call on them when the storm clouds rise
On the dark and the rolling sea

Oh I have no need of a chart or creed
You told your waiting crew
For the winds of chance, they will bear us straight
And you spoke as though you knew
So you paid no mind to the warning signs
As you gave your words so free
Don't change your tack when the timbers crack
On the dark and the rolling sea

Now the thunder rails in the great mainsails
And the stars desert the skies
And the rigging strains as the hands of rain
Reach down to wash your eyes
And your oarsmen stands with his knife in hand
And his eyes spell mutiny
Don't call my name when your ship goes down
On the dark and the rolling sea

Modern Times