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Prospects
A train ride to Tuesday
A platform far away
Scarlet shades of evening move clouds of grey
Awaking, arriving
The dirty station where
He passes crowds of people who don't see him there
Here's a desert island room
For a man who's cast away
Stranded in this home from home
>From his family
Far away
Home.
Well this is it
This is it
Is this my heart
I miss you with all my heart
This is not
Is this not
My home
One shoe-lace cardboard suitcase
One passport from the Queen
One room for a light bulb
Where no-one's been
Sticks and stones, my old bones
Not like nineteen fifty-four
Then the liked me fine
But not anymore
This empty room
Where he's marooned
With nothing left to say
But in the dark
He thinks of home far away
Home.
Well this is it
This is it
Is this my heart
I miss you with all my heart
This is not
Is this not
My home
I feel cold, getting old
More than the climate's changed
Stranded on this island
The rate of exchange
Here's a desert island room
For a man who's cast-away
Today he will not be at work
There is no work anyway
How is it when you feel it
Do you wonder what gets you down
You're looking in the windows
When you walk this town
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When you walk this town
You're looking in the windows
Do you wonder what gets you down
How is it when you feel it
There is no work anyway
Today he will not be at work
For a man who's cast-away
Here's a desert island room
The rate of exchange
Stranded on this island
More than the climate's changed
I feel cold, getting old
My home
Is this not
This is not
I miss you with all my heart
Is this my heart
This is it
Well this is it
Home.
He thinks of home far away
But in the dark
With nothing left to say
Where he's marooned
This empty room
But not anymore
Then the liked me fine
Not like nineteen fifty-four
Sticks and stones, my old bones
Where no-one's been
One room for a light bulb
One passport from the Queen
One shoe-lace cardboard suitcase
My home
Is this not
This is not
I miss you with all my heart
Is this my heart
This is it
Well this is it
Home.
Far away
>From his family
Stranded in this home from home
For a man who's cast away
Here's a desert island room
He passes crowds of people who don't see him there
The dirty station where
Awaking, arriving
Scarlet shades of evening move clouds of grey
A platform far away
A train ride to Tuesday
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