Cocker / Senior / Doyle / Mansell / Doyle 

I'm being followed home, I don't know what for, I don't know by whom. The smell of your dress, a face in the rain, the pavement shines wet, in focus again. In a dead seaside town, I tried to change my mind for a well-balanced view that was not mine to find. Heaven knows, all your scars are on show, they last a lifetime. And your hands leave their marks in the sand, they last forever. It's clear to me, you fit so perfectly in a dimly-lit room just in sight of the sea. His twisted face tells me to leave this place. You know somewhere, but I shouldn't go there. Heaven knows, etc. They've followed me home - the one with the dog-breath in the tattoo bar says something in a language that I don't understand. The street stinks of piss and dead fish. Jump a garden wall, hear him swear as he stumbles and falls on the damp grass behind me. Over another wall. Which way? The corner's turned. A bottle smashes. Someone laughs. The glint of a blade in the moonlight.  And it's too late. The first blow lands, then nothing. I awoke on the beach sometime later to a grey and sunless sky. Your voice still slithers in my head, I can't remember what you said. I get to my feet, my body aches. I make for the town, for nobody's sake. My mind is a blur, I feel so weak. I see your reflection in the street. It's what you deserve, it's what you need, just like those stupid books you read. I look to the sky, I see your face, collapse in the road. I hear you say I shouldn't go there, I shouldn't go there. My wound's healing now and your imprint fades, now just a pale scar for five vanished days. Your voice is so weak, your face is unclear, your body a legend from a forgotten year. I'm being followed home.