What do they do when they're through with philosophy?Where do they go when life's getting low, do you know?Digits or letters, what will be better?Where do they make time?A prophet in a fishbowl, watching all the lost souls of the city asleepAnd you sure could save meMake me immortal and make me part of your songI love all your rides, you're a good one and I can't be wrongCome on, make me immortal and make me part of your songI'll be the first thing I do after the day that I stoppedThe first thing I do after the day that I stoppedAnd here's Gillis, the night owl, the wayward, the seekerWell, it's alright, ma, I'm only bleederAnd high above the rooftops, the churchyard's a minaretAnd here's Gillis, the night owl, the wayward, the seekerHe's all alert with his coffee and cigarettesWill this all end up with Thai instant soup shrimp flavour?Will this all end up with Thai instant soup flavour?Reviewing Steve Hurley's record for a weekly newspaperAnd come on, make me immortalYou can make me part of your songThat'll be the first thing I do after the day that I stopped sweatingYou can make me immortalOver the night I find my way back to the beachI'll be the first thing I do after the day that I stopped sweatingYou're the first thing I do after the day that I start sweatingThe day I start sweating*