Lyrics:

And here slip I
Dragging one foot in the gutter
In the midnight echo of the shop that sells cheap radios.
And there sits she
No bed, no bread, no butter
On a double yellow line
Where she can park anytime.
Old Lady Grey; crash-barrier waltzer
Some only son's mother. Baker Street casualty.
Oh, Mr. Policeman
Blue shirt ballet master.
Feet in sticking plaster
Move the old lady on.
Strange pas-de-deux
His Romeo to her Juliet.
Her sleeping draught, his poisoned regret.
No drunken bums allowed to sleep here in the crowded emptiness.
Oh officer, let me send her to a cheap hotel
I'll pay the bill and make her well - like hell you bloody will!
No do-good over kill. We must teach them to be still more independent.