The distant echo Of faraway voices boarding faraway trains To take them home to The ones that they love and who love them forever The glazed, dirty steps, repeat my own and reflect my thoughts Cold and uninviting, partially naked Except for toffee wrappers and this morning's paper Mr. Jones got run down Headlines of death and sorrow, they tell of tomorrow Madmen on the rampage And I'm down in the tube station at midnight I fumble for change, and pull out the Queen Smiling, beguiling I put in the money and pull out a plum Behind me Whispers in the shadows, gruff blazing voices Hating, waiting "Hey boy" they shout, "have you got any money?" And I said, "I've a little money and a takeaway curry I'm on my way home to my wife She'll be lining up the cutlery, you know she's expecting me Polishing the glasses and pulling out the cork" I'm down in the tube station at midnight I first felt a fist, and then a kick I could now smell their breath They smelt of pubs and Wormwood Scrubs And too many right wing meetings My life swam around me It took a look and drowned me in its own existence The smell of brown leather It blended in with the weather Filled my eyes, ears, nose and mouth, it blocked all my senses Couldn't see, hear, speak any longer I'm down in the tube station at midnight I said I was down in the tube station at midnight The last thing that I saw as I lay there on the floor Was "Jesus saves" painted by an atheist nutter And a British rail poster read "have an away day, a cheap holiday Do it today" I glanced back on my life, and thought about my wife 'Cause they took the keys, and she'll think it's me I'm down in the tube station at midnight The wine will be flat and the curry's gone cold I'm down in the tube station at midnight Don't want to go down in a tube station at midnight Don't want to go down in a tube station at midnight Don't want to go down in a tube station at midnight