Well, Tommy woke that morning with a headfull of rocks and Sylvia was in shock. The story they'd been faking had frozen on their lips and fallen through the brush of fingertips and though they packed their bags, ready for the road, the curtains and the bedroom door stayed closed. For Sylvia and Tommy this is a curtain call they've been running away for years but pride in flight precedes a certain fall. So Tommy rubs his stubble as if to check his face is there and Sylvia combs her hair just like nothing really happened they'll carry on as before... but this thing won't work, will it, any more. And though the bags are packed ready for the road the curtains and the bedroom door stay closed. For Sylvia and Tommy there's nowhere left to hide... they've been running for years to find some kind of thrill to take away the emptiness that they both feel inside. Making the fictional out of the matter of fact; masquerade the picture but now the frame's all cracked. For Sylvia and Tommy there's nothing left to try they've been running for years to find some kind of life that offers an excitement that the rest of us pa** by. So Tommy woke that morning with a headfull of rocks and Sylvia was in shock. This story they'd been faking was frozen on their lips and falling through the brush of fingertips and though the bags are packed ready for the road the curtains and the bedroom door stay closed. For Sylvia and Tommy there's nowhere left to go they've been running away so long there's just no strength to carry on they can't get back to what they knew a life abandoned once and long ago. (PH - Piano, Vox; David Lord - Keyboards, Orchestral Arrangement; Stuart Gordon - Violin)