Down In The Tube Station At Midnight Paul Weller

The distant echo
Of faraway voices boarding faraway trains
To take them home to
The ones that they love and who love them forever
The glazed, dirty steps, repeat my own and reflect my thoughts
Cold and uninviting, partially naked
Except for toffee wrappers and this morning's paper
Mr. Jones got run down
Headlines of death and sorrow, they tell of tomorrow
Madmen on the rampage
And I'm down in the tube station at midnight
I fumble for change, and pull out the Queen
Smiling, beguiling
I put in the money and pull out a plum
Behind me
Whispers in the shadows, gruff blazing voices
Hating, waiting
"hey boy" they shout, "have you got any money?"
And I said, "I've a little money and a take away curry
I'm on my way home to my wife
She'll be lining up the cutlery
You know she's expecting me
Polishing the glasses and pulling out the cork"
And I'm down in the tube station at midnight

I first felt a fist, and then a kick
I could now smell their breath
They smelt of pubs and wormwood scrubs
And too many right wing meetings
My life swam around me
It took a look and drowned me in its own existence
The smell of brown leather
It blended in with the weather
It filled my eyes, ears, nose and mouth
It blocked all my senses
Couldn't see, hear, speak any longer
And I'm down in the tube station at midnight
I said I was down in the tube station at midnight