by Jack Bruce and Pete Brown

Ah, Ah, Ah, Ah
Ah, Ah, Ah, Ah, Ah

In the white room with black curtains near the station.
Black-roof country, no gold pavements, tired starlings.
Silver horses run down moonbeams in your dark eyes.
She's just dressing, goodbye windows, tired starlings.
And I'll wait in this place where the sun never shines;
Wait in this place where the shadows run from themselves.
You said no strings could secure you at the station.
Platform ticket, restless diesels, goodbye windows.
As I walked in such a bad time at the station.
As I walked out, felt my own needs just beginning.
And I'll wait in the queue when the trains come back;
Lie with you where the shadows run from themselves.

Ah, Ah, Ah, Ah
Ah, Ah, Ah, Ah, Ah

At the party she was kindness in the hard crowd.
Consolation for the old wound now forgovern.
Yellow tigers crouched in jungles in her dark eyes.
She's just dressing, goodbye windows, tired starlings.

And I'll wait in this place where the sun never shines;
Lie in the dark where the shadows run from themselves.

Ah, Ah, Ah, Ah
Ah, Ah, Ah, Ah, Ah