The cats are howling round the dustbins
They're all into that trash
But they're heading to Clubville later
For their PR company bash
The sun is setting on the first act
And I have bought new shoes
And I'm going down to Browning Road
Just to be seen with you

The philosophers are out
On Sartrean sulphate
Say I don't exist
But I'm tune in the spoon
In the June moon
Must be something I missed
They disappear backwards
When they use big words
When the small ones just won't do
And I'm going down to Browning Road
Just to be seen with you

Romantic ain't the word
For what you do to me
Maybe frantic, mantic, transatlantic
Baby, get a message from me

The poets pose in the prosaic
They say everything must rhyme
But down Browning Road
They're all stitched up
Because nothing keeps time
The dealers get up at seven
To push their big deals through
And I'm rocking on down Browning Road
Just to be seen with you

Well, you know that there's trouble
In the fundamental factory
Something's rotting on this estate
We would have done something about it
But when we were born it was much too late
Sick analysts are traveling inwards
Even Jesus has got the blues
So I'm going down to Browning Road
Just to be seen with you

Romantic ain't the word
For what you do to me
Maybe, frantic, semantic, oh transatlantic
Hey, Baby, can't you see

That when the sun hits heavy
On your selfishness
And the light in your heart gets dark
And you're sick of the sight
And the stink and the steam
In this everyday amusement park
Well I'll throw in my hand when I'm on a roll
Pick up my rocking shoes

And then I'll go down to Browning Road
Cos I just wanna be seen with you

Copyright: O/B/O DistroKid
Writer(s): WESLEY STACE