Spring again and anything's for sale 
As usual I am no one 
Where every word and moment 
Is treated as something crucial and sucks 

In the evening dew 
With a can or two 
I hang around and wait for you 
Fenceleaning and dreaming 
Of something new 
Making no waves 

Beyond the tracks of an overgrown beach 
Where insects hum round the flames from an oildrum 
We're drifting into oblivion 
And out of reach crashing the waves 

Ba ba ba ba da 
In the evening dew 
With a bruise or two 
Fenceleaning and dreaming 
Of a good day and evening 
They're known to happen 
Even here 

In the evening dew 
With a can or two 
I hang around and wait for you 
Fenceleaning and dreaming 
Of something new 
Making no waves