There's a MKII parked on the cobbles. Of a Chelsea Mews and out of the shadows. Steps a figure silver mohair bright. Into the moonshine out in to the night. And in the darkness one stray moonbeam. Creeps through the curtains on the unmade bed. She stares at the ceiling just an empty feeling. He starts the Jaguar and drives away. And no one breathes a word. Cos even breathing can be heard. Right through the silver screen. They've made inquiries they'll make it easy. But she won't answer cos she's not really there. He throws his gloves out the open window. He lights a cigarette and drives away. He starts the Jaguar and drives away.....