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  • 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
  • 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