The caravan flipped over two, three times went spinning down the carriageway Breaking up into splinters wheels spinning around in the dust at the foot of the hill And all the old clothes, the pots and pans and the photographs The little things of those people's lives strewn across the road We all want what we cannot have We've driven so far, we can never get back Sitting in the all-night cafe in a curl of smoke Telling tales of the road By the glow of a flickering lighter we went stumbling forward through the corridor Up the broken staircase to the top of the trail of shattered glass Damp mattresses in the doorway, an old abandoned take-away Nothing much to tell us if and where you'd gone By now you could be miles away We all want what we cannot have We've driven so far, we can never get back Sitting in the all-night cafe in a curl of smoke Telling tales of the road Bridge: And everyone just keeps moving on, you turn around and find they're all gone The lights go out one by one, the prodigal son is not coming home Down at the ferrybridge junction beneath the cooling towers a man stood hitching a ride And in the long grass at the verge his son was laid asleep He said nothing's left to keep us in the city where we come from Take us far away from here looking for work and the wishing well This afternoon the sunlight spilled shadows across the golden hills They searched us at the border but they're not looking for what we're hiding They're not looking for what we're hiding We just want what we cannot have We've driven so far, we can never get back Sitting in the all-night cafe in a curl of smoke Telling tales of the road Sitting in the all-night cafe in a curl of smoke Telling tales of the road Tales of the road