We could throw ourselves in the road    but recieve no comfort from street lights   Why not come in for a James and escape life   We're idle in the meantime   Aristocrats and Architects with broken dreams   Well I say the dead sea is dying   you say you're going underground for a while   Well we all need to be recognised for something   True as the devil's eyes are blue   Work-a-days and underpaids still hold the keys      I see this place from my window   It glows on the corner like the rest   There are the buzzards and the crows   Pecking eyes of a scene self-obsessed      Now, if commandment 11 is don't get caught   The 12 must be don't ever tell   Then ask yourself, do you believe you'll go to hell   My mate went to the crossroads to see the devil   but he never showed and if he says that I believe      I hear the place from my window   Call me like a lighthouse to the sea   There swarm the buzzards and the crows   Pulling wide, talking wise endlessly      You and I hanging aroung   Writing each others' names   Scissors, we cut it out   Enchantment we thought might wait   No need to be recognised   Cause we could be self-assured   We could be happy indoors      I know this place from my window   I trip out and fall to the ground down below   Heads up for the buzzards and the crows   Still believe in the void of themselves   Still believe in the void of themselves      And all the trees and animals and mountains breathe