Outside Charring Cross Station

The mist is clearing and the sun is appearing
roll up, roll up, oh! the state that we're in.
Raincoat Sally, look she hops on a six
a Maltese waiter's gonna get her a fix,
rush hour people mmm? they look so exciting.
There's something about them, their lives are so frightening.
Oh, and I'm just writing again from observation.
Sitting on a bench outside Charring Cross Station.

You know? If I was an artist, I'd paint a scene
there'd be little children dropping flowers into a stream.
Grown up and playing the game by the rules,
I hear there's a plague of human beings. Tell me, who are the fools?
And I'm just rambling on outside Charring Cross Station,
not altogether certain of my destination.

I feel inspired to think up some derisory term.
Dedicate it to the Holy men and the people that will never learn.
Hey! I notice a young girl is reading Our Mutual Friend,
let's hope she understands the message at the end.
Oh, some folk say I should get a regular occupation,
but I'm happy sitting here outside Charring Cross Station.


Capability Red        1980