The distant echo 

Of faraway voices boarding faraway trains

To take them home to

The ones that they love and who love them forever

The glazed, dirty steps, repeat my own and reflect my thoughts

Cold and uninviting, partially naked

Except for toffee wrappers and this morning's paper

Mr. Jones got run down

Headlines of death and sorrow, they tell of tomorrow

Madmen on the rampage

And I'm down in the tube station at midnight

I fumble for change, and pull out the Queen

Smiling, beguiling

I put in the money and pull out a plum

Behind me

Whispers in the shadows, gruff blazing voices

Hating, waiting

"hey boy" they shout, "have you got any money?"

And I said, "I've a little money and a take away curry,

I'm on my way home to my wife.

She'll be lining up the cutlery,

You know she's expecting me

Polishing the glasses and pulling out the cork"

And I'm down in the tube station at midnight



I first felt a fist, and then a kick

I could now smell their breath

They smelt of pubs and wormwood scrubs

And too many right wing meetings

My life swam around me

It took a look and drowned me in its own existence

The smell of brown leather

It blended in with the weather

It filled my eyes, ears, nose and mouth

It blocked all my senses

Couldn't see, hear, speak any longer

And I'm down in the tube station at midnight

I said I was down in the tube station at midnight



The last thing that I saw

As I lay there on the floor

Was "Jesus saves" painted by an atheist nutter

And a British rail poster read "have an away day, a cheap holiday

Do it today!"

I glanced back on my life

And thought about my wife

Cause they took the keys, and she'll think it's me

And I'm down in the tube station at midnight

The wine will be flat and the curry's gone cold

I'm down in the tube station at midnight

Don't want to go down in a tube station at midnight