High Llamas Apricots
Back in the eighties
The air smelled like roses
I flew my big black balloon
As an accountant, over the City
Staring straight at the moon
Then all my friends quit smoking
Saying an ill wind had set in
None of us can win
I started drinking in City gymnasiums
Hanging out with the guys
Now all the streets are empty
No one calls I'm eating in
Apricots from tins
Get in the car
No
Get in the car
No
Look I said get in the car
I told you i'm not going
No
No
No
I'm not going
I won't get in the car
Get in the car
No, I'm not going
