Madness - Prospects Lyrics
A train ride to tuesdayA platform far awayScarlet shades of evening move clouds of greyAwaking, arrivingThe dirty station whereHe passes crowds of people who dont see him thereHeres a desert island roomFor a man whos cast awayStranded in this home from home>from his familyFar awayHome.Well this is itThis is itIs this my heartI miss you with all my heartThis is notIs this notMy homeOne shoe-lace cardboard suitcaseOne passport from the queenOne room for a light bulbWhere no-ones beenSticks and stones, my old bonesNot like nineteen fifty-fourThen the liked me fineBut not anymoreThis empty roomWhere hes maroonedWith nothing left to sayBut in the darkHe thinks of home far awayHome.Well this is itThis is itIs this my heartI miss you with all my heartThis is notIs this notMy homeI feel cold, getting oldMore than the climates changedStranded on this islandThe rate of exchangeHeres a desert island roomFor a man whos cast-awayToday he will not be at workThere is no work anywayHow is it when you feel itDo you wonder what gets you downYoure looking in the windowsWhen you walk this town
