Latin Quarter - Mick and Caroline

Lyrics

You're living in a world where all the lambs are "frisky"
And private eyes hold hold-guns that are hotter than
The whisky that they drink
The cops here never miss a hand-out and they
Never miss a detail
Supergrasses sell you wholesale but they'd like to make it retail
Don't you think?

I saw you huddled in a parka by the fifteen furlong marker
What you told me was obscured by the hooves
And the cling-film clings around you
Choking off all of the sound you're making
Even though you scream it
From the roofs

Love has gone, love has taken a rain check
Love has left you with no forwarding address
Love has gone, love has sailed the evening tide
And the last surviving signal is distress
Love has gone…

You played them all the sickly crooners
All the sugar "moon" and "Juners"
But that waxworks never got you past first base
After all of that Scorsese you should know
Things don't come easy
Now you're shedding bitter tears by the case

Love has gone, love has taken a rain check
Love has left you with no forwarding address
Love has gone, love has sailed the evening tide
And the last surviving signal is distress
Love has gone…

Love has left you in Manila
With your "Off the Wall" and "Thriller"
And a bill that's mounting every single day
But the telex and the ticker tape
Just tell you what you can't escape
She's left you not a single thing to say

Love has gone, love has taken a rain check
Love has left you with no forwarding address
Love has gone, love has sailed the evening tide
And the last surviving signal is distress
Love has gone…

Song Description

Idioms and pictures after the end of a relationship – all clichés: You’re living in a world in which, like the proverb says, all the lambs are frisky. Private eyes hold hand guns that are hotter than the whiskey that they drink. The cops never miss a chance for a hand-out and nothing escapes them. Supergrasses sell you and want to get a good price.

(Directed at the former girlfriend:) You’re sitting huddled up in your parka by the racing track, but your words are drowned out by the horse’s hooves. You’re wrapped in cling-film. Every sound you make is smothered, even if you scream it from the roofs. Love has gone. It rained, was the excuse. Love hasn’t left a forwarding address. You’re left sitting here like an uncollected package. All that remains is your own misery.

You played your girlfriend all your sickly crooners, where ‘moon’ and ‘June’ are rhymed. But those waxworks didn’t get you very far. After all those Scorsese films you should have known: things never come that easy. Now you bitter tears are flowing in torrents. Love has left you in Manila, far from home. You have your Michael Jackson records, but the ticker tape and your bill, that’s getting bigger every day, tell you what you can’t escape: She’s left you and you don’t know what to say.

Versions

  • AStudio Version (4:49)
  • BStudio Version (3:33)
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