Текст пісні
Around midnight, two people got into a cab. It was raining heavily
Or maybe it wasn't, but the streets were shining black and wet. As
The car picked up speed, a woman trying to see out of the window to
Get some idea of where they were. But at night in a foreign city
In a blur of stone facades broken by flashes of white light
Fractured by rivulets of water running up and down
The windows, nothing was clear. Except that the big
Bad city isn't so bad as the fashion magazines would
Like it to be. Maybe it used to be, or maybe it never was
It was a velour-lined English taxi, one of those dove-grey wombs
No it wasn't, it couldn't have been. It had to be a four-door
Mercedes sedan. Cold, hard plastic covers on the seats. Moving fast
Through wet streets, assaulted from all directions by glare, searing
Cold flashes in the unknown darkness, she retreated into the seat
Shrink-wrapped in artificial intelligence, to observe the sensation
Of leaden fatalism as it spread itself like a drug through her body
On the other side of the car, a man stared morosely into
The water on the window. He mumbled something about his
Girlfriend never having treated him that way before
Sometimes the worm turns. Is that fortunate for the worm?
Maybe. He wondered aloud why he felt nothing in his heart
Whether to play the tormented master or the suffering slave
The burning question in the hackneyed drama of love
Martyrs, fervently pursuing a place on the rack, won't
Settle for less until they've had their fill of it, until
They've satisfied the appetite for damage. It is ridiculous
The laws of probability posit that there is likely to be a molecule
From Caesar's last gasp in any breath we take. So I guess it's safe
To assume there was the odd photon or two of moonlight banging
About in the back seat of that cab. But for the most part the light
Was incandescent, fluorescent and neon. An eerie grey light
Punctured by landmine flashes that
Illuminated a thin profile, shivering
His eyelids were too heavy for him, the head unsteady on its