I'm on a B road heading for the sea  To see if hands across the ocean  Shake or wave  Through the whiplash of the windscreen wipers  I can see for miles  But all I do is watch the time  And the driver's hands    He harbours thoughts on personal grief  I said your hardship's  Only one of a fleet  That didn't go down well    CHORUS  Listen son if you'd spent  Your life in the last lane  You would have an accent to grind  Punch-drunk on patriotism  Blind-drunk on borderism  Maybe I should drive    And while you're castaway  The mice'll play  They'll have a license  To dull those left back home  What about those poor souls?    And as I jumped to these conclusions  He thumped his feet on the brakes  But we still hit a songwriter  Trudging through the rain    Scrambled out and watched him  Rest in pieces  Said a prayer and rifled  Through his pockets  But the side of his mouth  Still had something to say  At the toss of a coin  I end up head in the dirt  And tail in the air  Yet you can dance away  But be it friend of hard-up-man  Fellow or kin  When the chips are down  They're down for good