More Life in a Tramps Vest
I get camping eyes in the final hour,
last minute shoppers picking cauliflower,
the fuss they make you'd swear they were
buying a car.
Always moan moan its not so cheap,
cheaper still, cheaper still down the street,
I lose my rag and tell them take your bag
and shop down there,
Closing down, closing down another road,
one way system steals the show,
mac the knife swigs a can and sings the day
away,
there's more life, more life, more life,
in a tramps vest,
Flower man sits down in the street,
surrounded by stock he bought back last week,
bring back the ladies wearing lipstick on
their teeth,
Make up, we make up a crappy joke,
sit back, relax and have a smoke,
mac the knife swigs a can and sings the day
away,
there's more life, more life, more life,
in a tramps vest.
Looks Like A Chaplin
I feel the was close down the street,
yet chaplin walks feet nine fifteen
and I hear them call his name
and I see him turn away
asks to use the phone
yet he lives alone
he lives alone
there's no-one home to phone
sits alone home alone
calls his home his own his wife is still
unknown
Local Boy in the Photograph
There's no mistake
I smell that smell
Its that time of year again
I can taste the air
Clocks go back, railway track
something blocks the line again
and the train runs late for the first time
and all the friends lay down the flowers
sit on the banks and drink for hours
talk of the way they saw him last
local boy in the photograph
today he'll always be twenty three
yet the train runs on and on
past the place they they found his clothing.
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