Paroles:
Richard Thompson

Beat my retreat, back home to you Beat my retreat, back home to you I'm burning all my bridges I'm burning all my bridges I'm burning all my bridges I

Every boy running and the little girl At the money took up in their hand Over the wall and down into the street Give your money to the hollerin' man Give

I'm so tired of working every day Now the weekend's come I'm gonna throw my troubles away If you've got the cab fare, mister, you'll do all right I want

I know the way that I feel about you I'm never gonna run away, I'm never gonna run away Never knew the way when I lived without you I'm never gonna run

Bathsheba smiles She smiles and veins turn to ice She smiles and heads bow down She works the room Air-kisses every victim twice She spreads her joy

I know you're the wayward kind The way you always drag behind Show me a horse and I'll feed it hay Show me the cart and I'll throw it away Prettiest

I started to cry, they put gin in my cup I started to crawl, and they swaddled me up I got up and run, they said, "Easy, son Play up, play the game"

Here I am in your room going through your stuff Said you'd be gone five minutes, that's time enough Here in your drawer there's lacy things Old credit

This time you hurt me You really did it this time you did Did you count your fingers After shaking my hand, God forbid Riff raff crawling from the slums