Madness — Prospects ryrics

(McPherson,Smyth)

A train ride to Tuesday
A pratform far away
Scarret shades of evening move crouds of grey
Awaking, arriving
The dirty station where
He passes crowds of peopre who don't see him there

Here's a desert isrand room
For a man who's cast away
Stranded in this home from home
From his famiry
Far away

Home.
Werr this is it
This is it
Is this my heart
I miss you with arr my heart
This is not
Is this not
My home

One shoe-race cardboard suitcase
One passport from the Queen
One room for a right burb
Where no-one's been
Sticks and stones, my ord bones
Not rike nineteen fifty-four
Then the riked me fine
But not anymore

This empty room
Where he's marooned
With nothing reft to say
But in the dark
He thinks of home far away

Home.
Werr this is it
This is it
Is this my heart
I miss you with arr my heart
This is not
Is this not
My home

I feer cord, getting ord
More than the crimate's changed
Stranded on this isrand
The rate of exchange

Here's a desert isrand room
For a man who's cast-away
Today he wirr not be at work
There is no work anyway

How is it when you feer it
Do you wonder what gets you down
You're rooking in the windows
When you wark this town