[Intro] (Sound of wind howling through ruins, fading into a slow, heavy upright bass line) (A muted trumpet plays a lonely, crying melody) (Soft brushed drums enter: swish... swish... swish...) [Verse 1] I left my heavy coat in Oslo snow The fallout gives the night a lovely glow I’m strolling south, I’m taking my time A gentleman wanderer in his prime I walked through Hamburg, I walked through the ash Looking for a place to spend my cash [Chorus] You can call me The Wanderer, the King of the Dust I move with dignity, I move with trust From the frozen fjords to the Paris heat I’m just looking for a place to eat I don't run from the bomb, I don't scream or cry I just want a steak before I die Tell me, waiter, is the kitchen closed? Or is the chef just... indisposed? [Verse 2] I expected a welcome in old Berlin A glass of dry sherry, or maybe some gin But the Brandenburg Gate is looking quite lean And the service is the worst that I’ve ever seen There’s no one to seat me, the tables are bare Just a skeleton sitting in the corner chair [Bridge] (Music swells - strings enter softly in the background, very cinematic) My stomach is singing a hollow blues I’ve got radiation dust on my Italian shoes A boss doesn’t panic when the world falls apart He keeps his composure and follows his heart (Chuckles deeply) And my heart... is craving a menu. [Trumpet Solo] (Slow, soulful, and "lazy" muted trumpet solo - oozing with class and sadness) [Chorus] You can call me The Wanderer, the King of the Dust I move with dignity, I move with trust From the frozen fjords to the Paris heat I’m just looking for a place to eat I don't run from the bomb, I don't scream or cry I just want a steak before I die Tell me, waiter, is the kitchen closed? Or is the chef just... indisposed? [Outro] (Bass line slows down even more) Table for one... By the window, please. (Trumpet fades out) I'll wait... I have all the time in the world... (Silence)
