Now it's getting dark
And the sky looks sticky
More like black treacle than tar
Black treacle
Somebody told the stars
You're not coming out tonight
And so they found a place to hide...

Now I'm out of place
And I'm not getting any wiser
I feel like The Sundance Kid
Behind the synthesizer
And I tried last night
To pack away the laugh
Like a key under the mat
But it never seems to be there
When you want it...