I've travelled the east, I've travelled the west
I've been down to Richmond I've tasted defeat
And sometimes I'm caught just in between frames
Of a movie that started and still got no name

I've been down in the valley up on the hill
Seen the dark forest where I maybe still
I've gathered a story or two on the way
But what good is an ending when you can't run away

Like a burnt out house at the end of the street
Like a man shot dead still on his feet
And I may lock the windows
And I may lock the doors
But somehow I know, it will come through the floor

Held up by strings attached to the clouds
A puppet of circumstance before a strange crowd
And the faces have no features and they can't seem to clap
Locked into the arena, hands behind their backs

Like a burnt out house at the end of the street
Like a man shot dead still on his feet
And I may lock the windows
And I may lock the doors
But somehow I know it will come through the floor

So take any hand take anything strong
Cos sometimes the stay on the island is long
And no one not no one ever wants to be laid
Out in a glass coffin with an uncovered face

Like a burnt out house at the end of the street
Like a man shot dead still on his feet
And I may lock the windows
And I may lock the doors
But somehow I know, it will come through the floor