A mile and a half on a bus takes a long time

The odour of old prison food takes a long time to pass you by

When you've been inside

Day upon day of this wandering gets you down

Nobody gives you a chance or a dollar in this old town



Hovering silence from you is a giveaway

Squalor and smoke's not your style

"I don't like this place"

We better go

Then I compare notes with your older sister

I am a lazy gett, she is as pure as the cold driven snow

She accepts my confession



What did you learn from your time in the solitary

Cell of your mind?

There was noises, distractions from anything good

And the old prison food

Colour my life with the chaos of trouble

Cause anything's better than posh isolation

1 missed the bus

You were laid on your back

With the boy from the arab strap

With the boy from the arab strap



It's something to speak of the way you are feeling

To crowds there assembled

Do you ever feel you have gone too far?

Everyone suffers in silence a burden

The man who drives minicabs down in Old Compton

The Asian man

With his love hate affair

With his racist clientele



A central location for you is a must as you stagger about making free with your lewd and lascivious boasts

We know you are soft cause we've all seen you dancing

We know you are hard cause we all saw you drinking from noon

Until noon again

You're the boy with the filthy laugh

You're the boy with the arab strap



Strapped to the table with suits from the shelter shop

Comic celebrity takes a back seat as the cigarette catches

And sets off the smoke alarm

What do you make of the cool set in London?

You're constantly updating your hit parade of your ten biggest wanks

She's a waitress and she's got style

Sunday bathtime could take a while