Sitting in a mess still undressed
As the kettle whistle blows
Paperback novelette still open
And the door is closed
You got a real sick mind
You write a column for The Times
For all the lovers gone blind
Who are looking for a sign
And when the night is over
And the drugs are gone
All you’ve got is your four leaf clover
You keep inside your coat
And when the night is over
And the drugs are gone
You feel the world is getting colder
You got no one to hold
Six pages down and she’s lighting up
Her trainwreck soul
She was abandoned by her lover
Left by the road
So apalling, scrawling those bullshit words
It’s thirsty work
She’ll stumble down to the boozer
Just to have a flirt
You got a real sick mind
You write a column for The Times
For all the lovers gone blind
Who are looking for a sign
And when the night is over
And the drugs are gone
All you’ve got is your four leaf clover
You keep inside your coat
And when the night is over
And the drugs are gone
You feel the world is getting colder
You got no one to hold
You got no one to hold
You got a real sick mind
You got a real sick mind
And when the night is over
And the drugs are gone
All you’ve got is a four leaf clover
You keep inside your coat
And when the night is over
And the drugs are gone
You feel the world is getting colder
You got no one to hold
You got no one to hold
You got no one to hold
You got no one to hold
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