Text:
Style Council The Cafe Bleu

Empty hours Spent combing the street In daytime showers They've become my beat; As I walk from cafe to bar I wish I knew where you are; Because

The pub talk, the scandals, like vandals they try to tear you down The whispers, turn rumours, there's no truth but that don't stop those cats They

Daylight turns to moonlight - and I'm at my best Praising the way it all works - gazing upon the rest The cool before the warm The calm after the

The lords and ladies pass a ruling That sons and girls go hand in land From good stock and the best breeding Paid for by the servile class Who have