For some strange reason we decided to talk about sex
It was a Wednesday at half past nine
The conversation just seemed to wander there
Besides, we'd done prog two million times
I met the teenage boy in you
I never knew was there
And I caught a glimpse of festivals when you had longer hair
We're stranded outside a Soho jazz club now
And neither of us has a mobile phone
The guy we need see is just inside the door
But he might as well be still in Malmo
We talk about our kids a bit
And we wish that we were them
And we hark back to our younger days, again
And somewhere in this leering city there beats a heart, I'm told
And Ian and I keep trying to find it on two very different roads
It seems that no-one even sees us, the kids just seem so cold
So please send your answers on a postcard
Are me and Ian old?
Some sleazy guy just sidles up beside us, he says:
"Hello lads, you looking for someone for a bit of a good time?"
He looks quite puzzled when I say "Krister Jonsson"
'Cause that's not what he had in mind
And I feel just like a fool as we head into the tube
But suddenly we're laughing all the way home
Somewhere in this leering city there beats a heart, I'm told
And Ian and I keep trying to find it on two very different roads
It seems that no-one even sees us, the kids just seem so cold
So please send your answers on a postcard
Are me and Ian old?
Are me and Ian old?
(Please send your answers on a postcard)
Are me and Ian old?
(Oh, yeah)
For some strange reason we decided to talk about sex...