At the platform's end, where the crowd grew thin

And the light was dim on our shoes

Where we sat there so tense,

Not to touch though we meant to (i think)

There was no will, no spell

To breach the night and stop the talk

She tossed her hair and home did walk



Broken radio

Broken radio



On the day that i was born

There was no big flash and no great storm

But the man read the news in dutch and warned,

"i'm gonna play 'je t'aime' on my hunting horn."

In my cradle i was most impressed--

So this is what you call success



Black seamus cried, "my shamrock has died

And my father's gone back to peru."

The frost-damp town wore a fat-guts frown

And the dj's played brian bor¨´

The sunday's sticky, home with rain

Sedition never entertained



Broken radio

Broken radio



Murder the past and all who sail in it

If the past is a wreck then all who sail in it

Make me realize it's time to move on

But all the ships and the planes have gone

I'm in a savage place with a timid song

Mumbled words...[maybes?]


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