I hope your adventures are still misconceived
And how are you?
Don't say "fine"
I enclose to you a little cheque
For your gambling debts
And your secret lives

I don't know how you'd write to me
But you could try
Send it in the morning with a lick of light
Fire it into the dead of night
Oh, you might not recognise me
When I get back

Are you still coming last or first?
Stay out of the middle
And roll your dice
Nothing is the end of the world
Except the end of the world
So hold your light

Oh, this postcard may beat me home
May beat me home, I know
Have you tried Montaigne on friendship?
Maybe give it a go
Did England win the World Cup?
We don't get mail or papers here
But that doesn't mean that I'm giving up
And if you write to me, then it might appear

I don't know how you'd get to me
But you could try
Send it with the calling of the evening light
And fire it into a summer's night
Oh, you might not recognise me
When I get back

Oh, you might not recognise me
Oh, you might not recognise me when I get back

Oh, you might not recognise me
Oh, you might not recognise me when I get back

What's your latest obsession?
And tell me, how is your mum?
And what will your face look like
When I see you again, my son?