So this is where he came to hide

When he ran from you

In a private detective's overcoat

And dirty dead man's shoes



The pretty things of Knightsbridge

Lying for a minister of state

Is a far cry from the nod and wink

Here at traitor's gate



'Cause the high heel he used to be has been ground down

And he listens for the footsteps that would follow him around



To murder my love is a crime

But will you still love

A man out of time



There's a tuppeny hapenny millionaire

Looking for a fourpenny one

With a tight grip on the short hairs

Of the public imagination



But for his private wife and kids somehow

Real life becomes a rumour

Days of dutch courage

Just three French letters and a German sense of humour



He's got a mind like a sewer and a heart like a fridge

He stands to be insulted and he pays for the privilege



(chorus)



The biggest wheels of industry

Retire sharp and short

And the after dinner overtures

Are nothing but an after thought

Somebody's creeping in the kitchen

There's a reputation to be made

Whose nerves are always on a knife's edge

Who's up late polishing the blade



Love is always scarpering or cowering or fawning

You drink yourself insensitive and hate yourself in the morning



(chorus)