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This is the end of the Straight Street
Of this I am sure
You said you’d meet me at this Roman gate
The arch you adored

But now it’s quarter past seven
and the last prayer is on
Resounding minarets just tell me
what I already know

So pretend to be my wife, because I
like the way the look at us
At this fare I could have him driving us back to Europe
But why would I do that
Pretend to be my wife, because I
like the way you look
But then there’s something that I
thought was quite well understood
And now I face those rare blue eyes
I thought it was well understood
What’s the reason, why are we here?

The small confession of intention
of the innocents abroad
You’ve got our fairest share of empathy
as long as you are poor

So now it’s quarter past ten
The last merchant’s gone home
Why were we so economical
when a life is so short

So pretend to be my wife, because I
like the way they look at us
At this fare I could have him polishing for ages, But why would I do that?
Pretend to be my wife, because I
like the way you look
but then there’s something that I
though was quite well understood
And now I face those rare blue eyes
I thought it was well understood
What’s the reason, why are we here?

This is the end of the Straight Street
I’ve been here before
You said you meet me at this Roman gate
the arch you adored

And now it’s quarter past midnight
and we’re standing alone
All these wishes you were far away
Now, here we are

Do you know if they’re having fun?
And should we be having fun?
Do you know if they’re having fun?
And should we be laughing loudly in their streets?
Do you know if they’re having fun?
Sometimes it seems they’re having fun
Do you know if they’re having fun?
I just want to have some fun

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