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Harold T. Wilkins - text

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You’ve been packing your bags for the tenth time
You’ve been up on the roof again
So you’re biding your time but it’s all right they’re coming any week now
Left behind by the mothership, they’re our only real friends
And inside, inside, you’ll always feel the same,
even when you wake up
Even if you wake up

In a town where everyone will kick and scream
And come to the same conclusion every time
Time to realise you were never on the team
There was always a question hanging over you
In a hot air balloon with a rusty nail
Looking over your shoulder and setting sail

Your dreams will become part of the future and coincide with the past
You spend all your time by the radio waiting for the signal
But inside, inside, you’ll always feel the same, even when you wake up
Even if you wake up

In a town where everyone will kick and scream
And come to the same conclusion every time
Time to realise you were never on the team
There was always a question hanging over you
In a hot air balloon with a rusty nail
Looking over your shoulder and setting sail

They drive the same road drifting over to your side!
They drive the same road turn the lights on again!
They sail the same strait turn the lights on again!

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