This all started the way things do. With a laugh and a cup of tea around the fire. As we sheltered from those wicked winds in front of that old TV. And we traded ideas as we watched each other with those ambitious bright eyes. Those eyes that saw every detail of the world so clear. And we bided our time impatiently until the hunger really burned. And the softest sweetest kisses were lost amidst the thunder in our hearts. We watched the people round us getting up getting on getting old. But the game we were going to play so well - we'd get to stay young forever. To begin with they just smiled and stepped around our little fire. But remember how pretty soon that all began to change. But now bitter in this great city all the little children should go home. Because the big men want to make deals. When they find you've got something they want. The party's gone the party's done the party's over children. You'd better go home. Funny how they all come running if you let your pockets jangle a little. And there's that strange queasy feeling. Every time someone holds a door open for you. Such sweetness such kindness - while they manoeuvre you into position. And we all know how hard it is to bite the hand that feeds you. Remember all those old films we used to watch every Friday night on TV. However fast you run however slow the Mummy walks. It always catches you in the end. The party's gone the party's done the party's over children. You'd better go home. This ain't no place anymore for little girls or little boys. Not unless you want them to spoon-feed you all your life. The party's gone the party's done the party's over children. This dream is gone this dream is dead this dream is over children.