Unpublished Critics

I'm just a shy romantic with my eyes on the loose

I'm in a overcoated way

A poet in a garret

You know what people say

Standing at the barline with my lip on the curl

I'm with the other lean and lear

My finger on the pulse

And my hand around a beer

Ah, Ahh, well I don't wanna know what's going round here

Ah, Ahh, it's just a matter of time, hold it under light

Ah, Ahh, I've got to get away, to get away, to get away

The singer in the band, he sweat on a pose

And he's really such a jerk

Thinks he can call me stupid

Because he gets a lot of work

I'm standing in the background, got my arms on the fold

And every dog's gonna have it's day

The New Musical Express and my own 4-way P.A.

Well, I've been reading those biographies in paperback

I've got a death-wish that I can't explain

I've been working on that petulance

And the urchin took my name

Ah, Ahh, well I don't wanna know what's going round here

Ah, Ahh, it's just a matter of time, hold it under light

Ah, Ahh, I've got to get away, to get away, to get away