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作词 : Benedict Clay/Vicky West/Steve Swindon/Paul Carter/Nainesh Shah
作曲 : Benedict Clay/Vicky West/Steve Swindon/Paul Carter/Nainesh Shah
My own Napoleon met his fate
With a smile on his face in summer time
By all accounts ventured he was running late
For a series of dates with his own lifetime
Bemused by your ambush at his garden gate
His head was twisted by your nonsense rhyme
For I was he when we came to be
And I can't always free all the hostages you take inside of me
And when it goes wrong
I sing my own song
It's a sad song I'll only sing for you
And, when I sing loud
It cuts the noise out
And only you remain, now
As the games end
Like an old friend
I call the right one in
Then there's the strange case
That we both make
For keeping the out-takes in
Bye bye Napoleon, I've boxed the tape
But it's getting late, and I won't make time
To re-run the chase scene, endless one-off takes
None of which make good on the finish line
Send Arthur Wellesley my warm embrace
But I have his author on the other line
For that was me when this came to be
And I can't always free all the hostages you take inside of me
And when it goes wrong
I sing my own song
It's a sad song I'll only sing for you
And, when I sing loud
It cuts the noise out
And only you remain, now
As the games end
Like an old friend
I call the right one in
Then there's the strange case
That we both make
For keeping the out-takes in
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