All the movements you’re starting to make,
See me crumble and fall on my face,
And I know the mistakes that I made,
See it all disappear without a trace,
And they call as they beckon you on,
They said start as you mean to go on,
As you mean to go on.
So meet me by the bridge, or meet me on the lane,
When am I going to see that pretty face again?
Meet me on the road, meet me where I said,
Blame it all upon a rush of blood to the head.