Ian McLagan, Ron Wood, Rod Stewart)



Cell block five, how I hate Bromide

With your coffee in the morning makes you so sterile

The corner gang never made a man of me boy



You know the walls are tall and the inmates scheme

There's no one here that’s more than seventeen

Bet your life there's a riot tonight in the mess hall

listen

A letter from your home town makes you sad

You read it when the wardens had a second laugh

He said sentimental rubbish ain't got no place in here boy



See the years roll on by

such a senseless waste of time

What a way to reform

Call out your number

who's a nonconformer,

not me baby, oh yeah



Shakey Brown didn't hang around

when a Molotow didn't do its stuff

You went back in there and said it with a sawed-off shotgun



You know Poker Sam couldn't lose a hand

If he did you were hit by a downtown tram

Or crushed in the path of a moving elevator, elevator



See the years roll on by

such a senseless waste of time

What a way to reform

Call out your number

who's a nonconformer,

not me baby, oh yeah



When I get out, I'll get straight

If this old world gives me half a break

But, if you see me in the corner with a chip on my shoulder

Don't blame me, don't blame me baby, no, no

Got to make a break for the county line