Near the Palace Hotel,
Where you used to dwell,
Engraved against your wishes,

One of your greatest misses

You hope the ink will never dry.


You're fooling yourself.
You feel set-up.

You're telling yourself
You don't believe in luck.


On Princess Street,
Where we used to meet,
We knew not where we were treading,

Or how the dye was spreading

You hope the ink will never dry.


You're fooling yourself.
You've been set-up.

You're telling yourself
You've done enough.


Lydia, tell me how hard can it be?
I don't know about you,
But it feels good to me.


I don't know about you,
But it feels good to me.