He's gone,  he's gone.

She wears sad jeans  torn at the waistband.
Her pretty face  is stained with tears.
And in her right hand  she clasps a letter;
I know this means  that he has gone.

And in this town  of mis-guided tourists,
she never thought  she'd fall in love.
It was a few days  after her birthday,
The thrill hostess  gave her first kiss.


He said her skin  smelled just like petals,
said stupid things  he knew she'd like.
She said her life  was like a motorway:
Dull, grey, and long  'til he came along.

He's gone,  he's gone.

I said ";How could  he ever leave you?
You two were good,  you were so right.";
She said ";I wish  that he just left me;
He'd be alive,  alive tonight.";

He's gone,  he's gone.
He's gone,  he's gone.
He's gone,  he's gone.