And it's a long long way to the top

But when you come down

It's one headlong rush



You've got an itch to scratch

The shiny bits of light

Hanging like stars

Hanging like stars



And Mary says you're such a restless soul

My bicycle spaniard

My magyar of cold



You've got an itch to find what's best left lost and cold

My bicycle spaniard

My poor restless soul

My bicycle spaniard

My poor restless soul