There's something in your soul that makes me feel so old
Outside the office hangs the man on the gibbet
Press the button on the lift
Endless treads like waves of regret
Your program, newspaper
Raise the dust on old stair carpets
In fact, I think I've died about six hundred times
Press the button on the lift
Small world, dimly seen through cataracts
There's less of me now and more of me then
Jump off the tarmac, there's no stagecoach speed limit
Soft lenses, grow to glasses
Jump onto the escalator
Outside the office, hangs the man on the gibbet
Your program, newspaper
Rumor spread by word of mouth
So they say
Endless treads like waves of regret
Raise the dust on old stair carpets
Falling off this rotting ladder
Jump on to the escalator
Jump off the tarmac, there's no stagecoach speed limit
Now it seems, I'm going madder
Press the button on the lift
There's less of me now and more of me then
Endless treads like waves of regret
Rumor spread by word of mouth
Jump onto the escalator
Falling off this rotting ladder
Falling through this rotting ladder
I'm moving back to the age of men
So they say
Soft lenses, grow to glasses
Raise the dust on old stair carpets
Now it seems, I'm going madder
I'm moving back to the age of men
Small world, dimly seen through cataracts
Now it seems, I'm going madder
Jump off the tarmac, there's no stagecoach speed limit
