Editors - Walk The Fleet Road

A winter wind blows, in from the north,
It scratches your spine, cold like the forth.
But you're a long way from home,
Through the dark we tip-toed,
The hospital rooms, as we walk fleet road.
Halt your tongue,
Son you're there now,
You're too young,
Halt your tongue.
No push and no shove is with your verbal maze,
It canter to love not this for this human race,
Ohhhh!!!
Halt your tongue,
Son you're there now,
You're too young,
Halt your tongue.
Halt your tongue, (my heart...)
Son you're there now, (...) You're too young, (as we walk...)
Halt your tongue. (...the fleet road)