Dawn, he's in a postcard of the dawn,   Where the knives of light   have left the dark night tattered & torn.   The firmamental cars   on the highway of the stars   are doing ninety (for your love) -   He's in a corner on the right -   the sole survivor of the night -   & it's you he thinking of.   And you, you only think of him,   dropping him a line   'cos he's got no time to swim.   They're closing all the doors   to his existential shores -   they'll leave him naked & alone -   & you can't help him now,   he's in the waters of the South -   sinking like a stone...   Running from the snapping jaws,    You know he ain't got time   to pause - there's one last door   between him & you - look out babe,   he'll be coming through (as soon as you admit that you're the cause).   Gone, with a squad of crooked creatures -   You saw a film of his escape   But you hardly recognized his features.   His seer's sight had lied   about the other side   no-one was waiting when you arrived.   You dared not hesitate -   even so, you got there late -   Who takes who for one last ride???