Something's beating on the wall, On the other side. Strange lovers moan, Each other's names on borrowed sheets, For the very first time. One of them's James, The other's some name he changes, every time she lies across his bed.
The light of the moon, Leads the way, Towards the morning, And the sun, The sun's well on its way, Too soon to know, And, oh my god, Whatever, Etcetera.
If I could I'd fold myself away, Like a card table, A concertina, Or a murphy bed, I would, But I wasn't made that way. So you know instead, I'm open all night, And the customers come to stay, And everybody tips, But not enough to knock me over. I'm so tired. I just worked two shifts.
But the light of the moon, Leads the way towards the morning. And the sun, The sun's well on its way, Too soon, to know, Oh, my god, Oh, my god, Whatever, Etcetera. Oh...
