I live in the dead centre of town

Where every landlorn sailor comes to drown

Where great ideas extinguish without sound

And all my fickle friends have gone to ground

So they will not come round...

And you ask me what the problem is

I say it's obvious

And I'm not lying



I live in the dead centre of town

With one foot in the grave and one underground

Where clocks don't go no matter how they're wound

Boredom's king, unhappiness abounds

And you ask me what the problem is

I say it's obvious

And I'm not lying

Our town is dying



I live in the dead centre of here

Where daughters treat their daddies like King Lear

Who says