Tekster: Beautiful South. Alone.

Like the contents of your handbag
You don't know why it's there
People ask you where you're heading
You just answer, "Anywhere"

We don't mean to be this vague
It just happens that we are
No one asked us to elaborate
We just shrug our shoulders and be

And like the stories that just happened
No one thought of, no one planned
We could have ruled, we could have conquered
Then we could have been a man

We could be ex-husband
We could be ex-wife
But no one looks at a menu
In a greasy spoon life

Alone, alone
Half an hour is seven hours
One day is several months

Alone, alone
A month is a calendar
A year can be a decade spent alone

He knows, 'Hello' in eighteen languages
'I love you' in only one
By the time he's got his phrase-book
The chance is usually gone

And we feel ourselves quite prepared
But quite prepared for what
We always took the lead
Before we actually knew the plot

And you can tell where we've been shopping
By the bags beneath our eyes
Make-up shoulders burden
But the smile never lies

We could be ex-husband
We could be ex-wife
But no one looks at the menu
In a greasy spoon life

Alone, alone
Half an hour is seven hours
One day is several months

Alone, alone
A month is a calendar
A year can be a decade spent alone

So empty at the airport
You don't set off the doors
We used to feel like chorus girls
And now we feel like whores

Hearts built like reservoirs
Words built like dams
Thoughts built like juggernauts
Our actions built like prams

And when the wind blows into our face
We should be warmer and not colder
Well, what price the charges
On this cargo that we shoulder

We could be ex-husband
We could be ex-wife
But no one looks at the menu
In a greasy spoon life

Alone, alone
Half an hour is seven hours
One day is several months

Alone, alone
A month is a calendar
A year can be a decade spent alone

And we only smoke when bored
So we do two packs a day
And we've lost the difference
Between bored and lonely anyway

Alone, alone
Alone, alone
Alone, alone
...