Al Stewart: Soho

Rainstorm, brainstorm, faces in the maelstrom Huddle by the puddles in the shadows where the drains run Hot dogs, wet clogs clicking up the sidewalk Disappearing into the booze shop Rainbow queues stand down by the news stand, waiting for the late show Pin ball, sin hall, minds in free fall Chocolate-coloured ladies making eyes through the smoke-pall Soho (needless to say) I'm alone on your streets on a Friday evening I've been here all of the day I'm going nowhere with nowhere to go Football supporters taking the waters They're looking round for the twilight daughters Non-stop strip club pornographic bookshop Come into the back and take your time and have a good look Old man laughs with flowers in his hair Newspaper headline "Midde East Deadline" Jazz musicians are down on the breadline Soho (needless to say) I'm alone on your streets on a Friday evening I've been here all of the day I'm going nowhere with nowhere to go Soho feeds the needs and hides the deeds, the mind that bleeds Disenchanted, downstream in the night Soho hears the lies, the twisted cries, the lonely sighs Till she seems lost in dreams The sun goes down on a neon eon Though you'd have a job explaining it to Richard Coeur de Lion Animation, bar conversation, anticipation, disinclination Poor old wino turns with dust in his eyes Begs for the dregs from the bottom of the kegs, man You've never seen a lady lay down and spread her legs like Soho (needless to say) I'm alone on your sheets on a Friday evening I've been here all of the day I'm going nowhere with nowhere to go Soho (needless to say) I'm alone on your streets, or am I dreaming I've been here all of the day I'm going nowhere with nowhere to go