Sweet surrender on the quayside 
You remember we used [bad word] and hide 
In the shadow of the cargoes I take you one at a time 
And we're counting all the numbers down to the waterline 
Near misses on the dogleap stairways 
French kisses in the darkened doorways 
foghorn blowing out wild and cold 
policeman shines a light upon my shoulder  [bad word] a coaster fast and silent in the night 
Over my shoulder all you can see are the pilot lights 
No money in our jackets and our jeans are torn 
Your hands are cold but your lips are warm 
She can see him on the jetty where they used to go 
She can feel him in the places where the sailors go 
When she's walking by the river and the railway line 
She can still hear him whisper 
Let's go down to the waterline