i m on a b road heading for the sea to see if hands across the ocean will shake or wave shake or wave through the whiplash of the windscreen wipers i can see for miles but all i do is watch the time the driver s hands he harbours thoughts on personal grief i said your hardship s only one of a fleet that didn t go down well no no listen son if you d spent your life in the last lane you d have an accent to gri ind punch drunk on patriotism blind drunk on borderism maybe i should drive and while you re castaway the mice ll play they ll have a license to dull those left back home hey hey now what about those poor souls listen son if you d spent your life in the last lane you d have an accent to gri ind punch drunk on patriotism blind drunk on borderism maybe i should drive as i jumped to these conclusions he thumped his feet on the brakes but we still hit a songwriter trudging through the rain scrambled out and watched him rest in pieces said a prayer and rifled through his pocket and the side of his mouth still had something to say at the toss of a coin i end up head in the dirt and tail in the air and yet you can dance away but be it friend of hard up man fellow or kin when the chips are down they re down for good