There's no jet on my tarmac
No boat upon my Atlantic
I search in vain for the exit
I search in vain for the way back

I'm singing for the transistors
This strange affair in a story
Of Asian loves transitory
My sleeping-beauty on the floor

Loving you I see
I'll go astray
And sow poppy-seeds
On the runways of escape
From our non-affair

You know those photos of Asia
Shot on 200 ASA
Now that you have gone away
Their colours have turned sepia

I thought I heard the scratch and hiss
Of a small chopper but alas
It's just the fan blades as they pass
Above my head at the police
Loving you I see
I'll go astray
And sow poppy-seeds
On the runways of escape
From our non-affair