The Last Man to Leave

The body follows me
Onto the cobblestones
Behind the frontline
It’s a ghost, it’s a score
For the rabbit hole
Because you’re all alone tonight
And the police with their heads down
They try to keep the law in the meadows
Where the manicured lawns of England
Barricaded in the fifties
Wake up to the blackbird
The radio and the bacon
The houses of joy and disappointment
Of the Windrush
Street sweepers leave your music
On the other side of the pavement
Because it sounds better over there
We don’t want you anymore
We like the bed that we’ve made to lie in
Better thank you
I’ll be the last man to leave
I’ll be the last man to leave
Because the Offie’s still open
So empty those plastic bags
Line up the gear all the vodka and ice
I’ll be the last man
I’ll be the last man to leave
I’ll be climbing back out of the rabbit hole
Because I’ve taken my medicine
It was bitter and it burned the back of my throat
And now I’m losing control
The ability to speak
I’ll be the last man to leave
Don’t leave me now
Don’t leave me now
I’m pacing up and down the kitchen
Don’t leave me now
Don’t leave me now
I’m taking it personally
I’ve got to rewrite
The story that they flaunted around and hoiked us all
I was just getting on with my business
I’ll be the last man to leave
I’ll be the last man to leave
And now I’ve gone away — what will you do?