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 Are 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 [Chorus:] To murder my love is 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
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 Are 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 [Chorus:] To murder my love is 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
