On The Museum Island

On the museum island,

At the end of the day,

We had travelled for miles,

We had come to escape

All the space on the page

That the newspapers gave

Up to pictures and pictures of us.

As we followed the coffin

Of your famous father.

Adjusting our skirts

As we turned at the altar.

And within every word

That they'd written, was spelt out

You'd taken your last ever bus.

So skimming the surface

Of all your new money,

We skimmed the surface

Of the air as we flew.

We were out of the rain,

We were thinking that maybe

Berlin was the place to renew.

Well you know what they say

About terrible hate

It will breed something good

When it's through.

At the end of the day,

By the Potsdamer Place

And the Brandenburg Gate,

It was you.

You have hardened completely

By the end of this story,

You have learned to look clear

Through the flash of a bulb,

When you hear your own name

From the back of a crowd,

You just straighten your gaze,

No you don't turn around.

Oh but there was a time

At the end of the day,

We were both stood in line

At the museum display,

And you outshone the light

Under which you were bathed,

You could outshine the sky

With the look that you gave,

Oh so don't be afraid

To look back and wave,

Now that waving is all that you do.

At the end of the day,

By the Potsdamer Place,

I am waving back at you.

So don't be afraid

To look back and wave,

Now that waving is all that you do.

At the end of the day,

By the Potsdamer Place,

I am waving back at you.