For some strange reason we decided to talk about sex

It was a Wednesday at half past nine

The conversation just seemed to wander thereBesides, we′d done prog two million times

I met the teenage boy in you

I never knew was there

And I caught a glimpse of festivals when you had longer hair

We're stranded outside a Soho jazz club now

And neither of us has a mobile phone

The guy we need see is just inside the door

But he might as well be still in Malmo

We talk about our kids a bit

And we wish that we were them

And we hark back to our younger days, again

And somewhere in this leering city there beats a heart, I′m told

And Ian and I keep trying to find it on two very different roads

It seems that no-one even sees us, the kids just seem so cold

So please send your answers on a postcard

Are me and Ian old?

Some sleazy guy just sidles up beside us, he says:

"Hello lads, you looking for someone for a bit of a good time?"

He looks quite puzzled when I say "Krister Jonsson"

'Cause that's not what he had in mind

And I feel just like a fool as we head into the tube

But suddenly we′re laughing all the way home

Somewhere in this leering city there beats a heart, I′m told

And Ian and I keep trying to find it on two very different roads

It seems that no-one even sees us, the kids just seem so cold

So please send your answers on a postcard

Are me and Ian old?

Are me and Ian old?

(Please send your answers on a postcard)

Are me and Ian old?

(Oh, yeah)

For some strange reason we decided to talk about sex...