the air here tastes like poison
the traffic moves on broken roads
the river runs like silver
my own feelings let me down
she's 14 and she's fading
there's a wasted year for
singing don't forget me boys
tired of waiting in the cheap seats
she is haunted by her failure here
the river runs like silver
my own feelings let me down
for every day that passes
singing don't forget me boys
in monday morning houses down
through gravel yards and dirty smoke
to somewhere on the sky line
what i feel is still the same
she's 40 and afraid that there's
a wasted life for every town that passes
singing don't forget me boys More from The Psychedelic Furs