A radio plays 'White Christmas' It's been doing that for years If someone leaves the station Oh please don't talk to strangers Can't you see they're not like us
The vacant flesh of U.D.'s Stand leaning by the walls You can feel them thinking over Ways of merging with the thoughts You never dare to dream
It must have been years It must have been years
They want to relive all my memories Give me 'the service' daily Maybe it was mother I can't seem to remember Much at all these days
Picture open doorways No pick-ups by the taxi boys Just a bed near the window And an old lamp by my pillow And the things I have to do
It must have been years It must have been years
The driver wants to touch me He mentions all the old cop bullshit I try to back away But he's so strong I just can't move Maybe I don't want to anyway
The time to leave is always 'soon' I wonder if I'm lying A vague feeling of panic As a man leaves saying 'thank you' I blame it all on you