Flavour of Night - Robyn Hitchcock

Long slender shadows pulsating in windows

While feathery curtains hide fountains of eyes from the light

A different disease in another translation

Though you don’t understand a familiar sensation

But who needs to talk when you’re caught in the flavour of night

And you, yeah you, with your ice cream hands

You, yeah you, are my friend

All that you want could be happening for you

Just like the road that unrolls there before you tonight

Eyes you don’t trust the fingers have beckoned

How long you got left--well, how long do you reckon

But who goes to waste when they’re tasting the flavour of night

And you, yeah you, with your ice cream hands

You, yeah you, are my friend