Sweet surrender on the quayside

You remember we used to run and hide

In the shadow of the cargoes I take you one at a time

And we're counting all the numbers down to the waterline



Near misses on the dogleap stairways

French kisses in the darkened doorways

A foghorn blowing out wild and cold

A policeman shines a light upon my shoulder



Up comes a coaster fast and silent in the night

Over my shoulder all you can see are the pilot lights

No money in our jackets and our jeans are torn

Your hands are cold but your lips are warm



She can see him on the jetty where they used to go

She can feel him in the places where the sailors go

When she's walking by the river and the railway line

She can still hear him whisper

Let's go down to the waterline