There’s something odd about his gloved left hand…

Somebody’s watching me
And now I’m nervous, and I shouldn’t be
Somebody’s got their eye on me
Perhaps I should invite him up for tea?

We saw him smoking by the newspaper stand
There’s something odd about his gloved left hand
Saw him again inside the old cafe
He makes us tense; we wish he’d go away

We are detective
We are select
We are detective
Come to collect

Thompson Twins