Lately I've been seeing things. Belly button piercings in the sky at night. When we're side by side. And I don't mean to rain. On anybody's cabriolet. One of those games. You're gonna lose. But you wanna play it just in case. Now it's getting dark. And the sky looks sticky. More like black treacle than tar. Black treacle. Somebody told the stars. You're not coming out tonight. And so they found a place to hide. Does it help you stay up late?. Does it help you concentrate?. Does it tune you in when you chew your chin?. Am I ruining your fun?. And you talk the talk alright. But do you walk the walk or catch the train?. You wanted it you got it. But you don't want it now. Now it's getting dark. And the sky looks sticky. More like black treacle than tar. Black treacle. Somebody told the stars. You're not coming out tonight. And so they found a place to hide. Now I'm out of place. And I'm not getting any wiser. I feel like the sundance kid. Behind a synthesiser. And I tried last night. To pack away the laugh. Like a key under the mat. But it's never seems to be there. When you want it. Black treacle. Black treacle. Black treacle