I’m the eyes in the windows, the stars and the doorways,
You’d better look over your shoulder when you’re turning your back now.
I see the note that you flicked up your sleeve when you wanted me to believe
You were playing honestly - you’ve got nothing on me now.
I see the hands on the hips and the scars on the lips of
The woman with the chip on her shoulder and the heart that she’s broken.
I see the fast fists fly for the face of the man in the wrong place,
Kissing bye bye to the taste of freedom in this land.

I see the little things you miss at the flick of a switch
And a click of the fingers, a flick of the wrist – and the joke is on you now.
I see the birds fly into the sunrise, wise men cry, leaves fall,
Cars crash, blood flow, cigarette smoke, broke hearts, I see it all.

I see the guilt in the glint of the eyes of the man in the doorway,
The tears and the bruise in the eyes of the woman in the hallway.
I see the door on the thirty-second floor close shut to
The woman who needs the law but the law says no.
I see the underbelly of this little town and all the skeletons and clowns
That wander round in Oxford Circus and the city saying, ‘Give me more.’

I see the little things you miss at the flick of a switch
And a click of the fingers, a flick of the wrist – and the joke is on you now.
I see the birds fly into the sunrise, wise men cry, leaves fall,
Cars crash, blood flow, cigarette smoke, broke hearts, I see it all.