This is the end of the Straight StreetnOf this I am surenYou said you'd meet me at this Roman gatenThe arch you adorednnBut now it's quarter past sevennand the last prayer is onnResounding minarets just tell menwhat I already knownnSo pretend to be my wife, because Inlike the way the look at usnAt this fare I could have him driving us back to EuropenBut why would I do thatnPretend to be my wife, because Inlike the way you looknBut then there's something that Inthought was quite well understoodnAnd now I face those rare blue eyesnI thought it was well understoodnWhat's the reason, why are we here?nnThe small confession of intentionnof the innocents abroadnYou've got our fairest share of empathynas long as you are poornnSo now it's quarter past tennThe last merchant's gone homenWhy were we so economicalnwhen a life is so shortnnSo pretend to be my wife, because Inlike the way they look at usnAt this fare I could have him polishing for ages, But why would I do that?nPretend to be my wife, because Inlike the way you looknbut then there's something that Inthough was quite well understoodnAnd now I face those rare blue eyesnI thought it was well understoodnWhat's the reason, why are we here?nnThis is the end of the Straight StreetnI've been here beforenYou said you meet me at this Roman gatenthe arch you adorednnAnd now it's quarter past midnightnand we're standing alonenAll these wishes you were far awaynNow, here we arennDo you know if they're having fun?nAnd should we be having fun?nDo you know if they're having fun?nAnd should we be laughing loudly in their streets?nDo you know if they're having fun?nSometimes it seems they're having funnDo you know if they're having fun?nI just want to have some fun