Tindersticks

Theres a city filth that lingers
All over my naked hands
Deep into the weave of the clothes I wear
And every step brings another
Every hour adds some more
Till Im on the other side leaning on your door
Are the taps running, darling?
Is the air thick with steam?
Can I find some place to cry these tears of shame?
Every step brings another
Every hour adds some more
Till Im on the other side leaning on your door
Theres a smell so sweet its sickly
It follows me into the room
Hangs in the air like rotting perfume
I never bathe in it, darling
Got down on my hands and knees
Got in so far, I became, well, a part of it all