Peter Sinfield - The Night People lyrics

Blue neon clock fingers sneaking past the stars Extinguish the last fuse of day Through black rain-wet streets rush bleary-eyed cars Stuffed with revellers drunk and blasé In Soho stained waiters bang dustbins around, Commissionaires yawn into tweed, As empty and echo hose yesterday down The night people slide inbetween Sallow dudes with spotlight eyes Pour laughter sauce on ice Velvet dolls with brandied smiles Lean close with mouths of dice The tunnel band plays studded drums And spits electric spears As the dancers kick like marionettes Through the smokescreen atmospheres Dance on pale harlequins of night Lest you scratch your gilded fears The paint peeling tea stall by Charing Cross bridge Attracts lonely moths to its lamps In corners of archways on a benches oak ridge Lie newspapered wine-softened tramps; Pushed on by policemen and queueing for soup Evading the world's outstretched glove, But one pain they share with the j**elled ghost troupe Both searching for some kind of love Gargoyles chewing on dead cigars Stack chips in crystal halls Sequinned starlets scent their breasts Till the single finger calls Rhinestoned strippers strut and peel For the cochineal stockade The gangster roars his crew applauds At the punter's fun parade; All worshiping the jaws of night Where the piper is never paid Champagned freaks in denim shirts Snort energy in spoons Laughing girls ask zodiac signs But their eyes sing lonely tunes It's four o'clock the wine is flat The coffee has long gone cold, The rustlers pay their last respects Then drive away blindfold… Dead the hollow dreams of night Turn grey dissolve… dissolve… Leaves dervish dance on the coiled wind of dawn Whisper… The curtain lifts… Day News vans and lorries with oranges roar From Fleet Street to Ealing Broadway The first bus with charladies stops in the Strand Milk vans and post vans cruise by At Euston commuters, shop girls and striped suiters, Are jostling and milling, cars hooting, brakes shrilling…