Small wonder you've not heard from her   She's gone now, back in england   She got spirit, will go farther   But she can't see the romance in the colour of your schemes   The colour of your schemes . . . oh   But you know and I that all girls are fly   And all men must die for their cars   Why blunder? there's no wonder   You've been feeling six foot under   Make it happen, you: it could happen   But don't forget to turn the light off if you're last to leave   If you're last to leave here   'cos you know and I that all girls are fly   And all men must die for their cars   And you know and I that all men are fly   And all girls must die, or something   To fade