Sat at the Edge of the World

I'm sat at the edge of the world without a hook on the end of my line,
Watching clouds roll by without a smile behind my eyes,
Wandering if Tom was right:
Are there nightclubs in Heaven?
So, I can complain about the noise.
Until then, I’m sat at the edge without a hook on the end of my line,
Wishing my shoes and socks were on because my toes are getting cold.
So, conjure me not a rainbow with every second thought.
I’m on the outside looking in with my eyes just as full of sin,
Wandering if Tom was right:
Are there nightclubs in Heaven?
So, I can complain about the noise.
Until then, I’m sat at the edge without a hook on the end of my line.
Without a hook on the end of my line.