Atkin-James You simply mustn't blame yourself -- the days were perfect And so were exactly what I was born to spoil For I am the Rider to the World's End Bound across the cinder causeway From the furnace to the quarry Through the fields of oil And I left you with the sign of the Rider to the World's End It was not the mark of Zorro Written sharply on your forehead with a blade Just a way of not turning up tomorrow And of phonecalls never made My time with you seemed readymade to last for always And so was predestined to be over in a flash For I am the Rider to the World's End Bound across the fields of oil Through the broken-bottle forest To the plains of ash And I left you with the sign of the Rider to the World's End It was not the ace of diamonds Or the d**h's-head of the Phantom on your jaw Just a suddenly-relaxing set of knuckles Never rapped against a door You were more thoughtful for and fond of me than I was And so were precisely what I can never trust For I am the Rider to the World's End Bound across the plains of ashes To the molten-metal valleys In the hills of dust