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letra de empty bottles - ben watt

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crippled anger from a crippled brain
crippled footsteps through a crippled train
bl–dy headwound leaves a bl–dy stain
on a raincoat smelling from the rain

it’s the last train, it’s the last train home
it’s the last train, it’s the last train home

knees together handbag nicely perched
her dateline boyfriend left her in the lurch
through the window she keeps her constant stare
which is funny because there’s nothing there

it’s the last train, it’s the last train home
it’s the last train, it’s the last train home

the carriage lurches like the drunken man
swaying sideways through the wasteland
while never flinching the wheels keep tight reign
like the girl, like the girl, staring through the pain

it’s the last train, it’s the last train home
it’s the last train, it’s the last train home
but is that any comfort, is that any comfort?
but is that any comfort, is that any comfort?

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