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       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       (chorus)