Almost touching, almost slipping through
Blowsy shirts, apologies in blue
Part of coming home's still coming back to you
And the whole damned rest of the world ain't got a clue
Something pulled you in like a fever
You said it ain't free, well I ain't either
So where's your bag, what you carrying now?
And who you gonna tell anyhow?
When the bell starts ringing, I can feel you start to leave
And you're signing a name on another empty sheet
And the chair's at your table, and the orange is in your bowl,
Those years of piled paper can't be blown over
You always felt like London
And after a while, you always felt like me
A scent of geranium and smoke
Old saxophone case falling 'gainst your coat
When the bell starts ringing, I can feel you start to leave
And you're signing a name on another empty sheet
And the chair's at your table, and the orange is in your bowl,
Those years of piled paper can't be blown over
Everything I ever did was true,
Unless I knew you could see straight through, I never lied about it to you
Everything I ever did was true,
Unless I knew you could see straight through, I never lied about it to you
Everything I ever did was true