The distant echo
Of faraway voices boarding faraway trains
To take them home to
The ones that they love and who love them forever
The glazed, dirty steps
Repeat my own and reflect my thoughts
Cold and uninviting, partially naked
Except for toffee wrapers and this morning's paper
Mr. Jones got run down
Headlines of death and sorrow - they tell of tomorrow
Madmen on the rampage
And I'm down in the tube station at midnight
I fumble for change
And pull out the Queen
Smiling, beguiling
I put in the money and pull out a plum
Behind me
Whispers in the shadows
Gruff blazing voices
Hating, waiting
Hey boy, they shout
Have you got any money?
And I said: I've a little money and a take away curry
I'm on my way home to my wife
She'll be lining up the cutlery
You know she's expecting me
Polishing the glasses and pulling out the cork
And I'm down in the tube station at midnight

I first felt a fist, and then a kick
I could now smell their breath
They smelt of pubs and wormwood scrubs
And too many right wing meetings
My life swam around me
It took a look and drowned me in its own existence
The smell of brown leather
It blended in with the weather
It filled my eyes, ears, nose and mouth
It blocked all my senses
Couldn't see, hear, speak any longer
And I'm down in the tube station at midnight
I said I was down in the tube station at midnight

The last thing that I saw
As I lay there on the floor
Was: Jesus saves, painted by an atheist nutter
And a british rail poster read: Have an awayday! Do it today!
I glanced back on my life
And thought about my wife
'Cause they took the keys, and she'll think it's me
And I'm down in the tube station at midnight
The wine will be flat and the curry's gone cold
I'm down in the tube station at midnight
Don't want to go down in a tube station at midnight