Bakerloo, Unbecoming

First an arrow, then a glance

She narrowed her eyes on his arrogance He shot something new out of both barrels She said, ‘your gun ain’t no fun’

I’ve been sleeping on the Bakerloo Channeling thundering memories of you These old resentments

Azaleas on my deathbed

Essentially it comes down again

to the limitless mysteries of other men and my desire for harder skin

or the easy love of an American

I’ve been sleeping on the Bakerloo Channeling thundering memories of you These old resentments

will be the death of me

They will dance the Gay Gordons at my funeral They will sing songs for the national blackout They will dance the Gay Gordons at my funeral

They will sing songs for the national blackout

You know, when I picture him I picture him surrounded

You know, when I picture you I picture a whirlwind in blue

I’ve been sleeping on the Bakerloo Channeling thundering memories of you These old resentments

will be the death of me

They will dance the Gay Gordons at my funeral They will sing songs for the national blackout They will dance the Gay Gordons at my funeral They will sing songs for the national blackout

And it sounds strange coming from

the oldest flame at Evensong

I’m no righteous type, don’t get me wrong but how do you get off if you never got on?

Never got on, never got on, we never got on

They will dance the Gay Gordons at my funeral They will sing songs for the national blackout They will dance the Gay Gordons at my funeral They will sing songs for the national blackout

Blackout