The caravan flipped over two, three times

Went spinning down the carriageway

Breaking up into splinters

Wheels turning around in the dust at the foot of the hill

And all the old clothes, the pots and pans and the photographs

The little things of those people's lives

Lay strewn across the road 

Ch: We just want what we cannot have

We've driven so far, we can never get back

Sitting in the all night cafe in a curl of smoke

Telling tales of the road 



By the glow of a flickering lighter

We went stumbling forward through the corridor

Up the broken stairway to the top of the trail of shattered glass

Damp mattresses in the doorway, an old abandoned take-away

Nothing much to tell us if and where you'd gone

By now you could be miles away 

Ch: We just want what we cannot have

We've driven so far, we can never get back

Sitting in the all night cafe in a curl of smoke

Telling tales of the road 



And everyone just keeps moving on, you turn around and find them gone

The lights go out one by one, the prodigal son is not coming home 

Down at the Ferrybridge junction

Beneath the cooling towers a man stood hitching a ride

And in the long grass at the side of the road his son was laid asleep

He said - nothing's left to keep us in the city where we come from

Take us far away from here - looking for work and the wishing-well

This afternoon the sunlight spilled shadows across the golden hills

They searched us at the border but they're not looking for what we're hiding

They're not looking for what we're hiding 

Ch: We just want what we cannot have

We've driven so far, we can never get back

Sitting in the all night cafe in a curl of smoke

Telling tales of the road