In the howling rain we called out in vain to be counted
In a farewell bid we raised our fists in the night
But if you act like that you'll be torn by the pack in this town
'Cause it's feet to the clouds and backs to the wall in this town

You soon learn
You soon learn

This vision we've had, we've been biding our time for too long
A marching band waits at the cemetery gates in the fog
If we leave about now we'll be in Europe by 9 tonight
Oh Paris, you've always had a hold on me

You soon learn
You soon learn