Lyrics

You kept me all night talking Equal rights for us and them Then I heard you sold the sequal rights To the head of M.G.M Your care for your profession And for honesty and trust So how come these party crumbs here Come from England's upper crust? Empty windows, empty windows in the snow How come it's winter, winter everywhere you go? D'you think I needed, did you think that I needed to be hurt? Wounded in action, were you hoping I'd desert? What was common in our background Was this game of 'Let's pretend' When the hosts swooped from Rebacca There was nothing left to mend Oh, how could you find this easy? And how could you be so hard? Should have seen those extra clauses Added to your party card Ah, wounded, wounded isn't dead Maybe I'm colder now not in heart But in my head Wounded, wounded and alone I hear 'The Last Post' On a tenor saxophone