I'm on a B road heading for the sea

To see if hands across the ocean

Shake or wave

Through the whiplash of the windscreen wipers

I can see for miles

But all I do is watch the time

And the driver's hands



He harbours thoughts on personal grief

I said your hardship's

Only one of a fleet

That didn't go down well



CHORUS

Listen son if you'd spent

Your life in the last lane

You would have an accent to grind

Punch-drunk on patriotism

Blind-drunk on borderism

Maybe I should drive



And while you're castaway

The mice'll play

They'll have a license

To dull those left back home

What about those poor souls?



And as I jumped to these conclusions

He thumped his feet on the brakes

But we still hit a songwriter

Trudging through the rain



Scrambled out and watched him

Rest in pieces

Said a prayer and rifled

Through his pockets

But the side of his mouth

Still had something to say

At the toss of a coin

I end up head in the dirt

And tail in the air

Yet you can dance away

But be it friend of hard-up-man

Fellow or kin

When the chips are down

They're down for good