In the howling rain we called out in vain to be counted In a farewell bid we raised our fists in the night But if you act like that you'll be torn by the pack in this town 'Cause it's feet to the clouds and backs to the wall in this town You soon learn You soon learn This vision we've had, we've been biding our time for too long A marching band waits at the cemetery gates in the fog If we leave about now we'll be in Europe by 9 tonight Oh Paris, you've always had a hold on me You soon learn You soon learn