It´s a chilly English winter,
And solitude is never easy to maintain,
Except when it rains.
So I hang an empty smile beneath my empty eyes,
And go out for a walk.

The wet morning sun reflects off the paving-stones,
While a little dog barks its head off,
In the distance.

(x2)
Oh, what a perfect day,
To think about myself
My feet are firmly screwed to the floor.
What is there to fear from such a regular world?

Passing by a cemetery,
I think of all the little hopes and dreams,
That lie lifeless and unfulfilled beneath the soil.
I see an old man fingering his perishing flesh.
He tells himself he was a good man and did good things.

Amused and confused by life´s little ironies,
He swallows his bottle of distilled damnation.

(x2)
Oh, what a perfect day,
To think about myself
My feet are firmly screwed to the floor.
What is there to fear from such a regular world?

People turn around with unseeing eyes.
They´re looking for something that doesn´t exist.
The world you once knew is being eaten up by rust.
No-one has time for the past, but still, in God they trust.
The future is now, but it´s all going wrong.
Bodies queue for nothing, but it´s to nothing they belong.

People say their prayers and some work hard.
If you give them all your money, they´ll give you their hearts.
This town ain´t getting like a ghost town.
It´s getting like hell....

(x5)
Oh, what a perfect day,
To think about myself
My feet are firmly screwed to the floor.
What is there to fear from such a regular world?