INTRO: AA Bm Always at the foot of the photograph - that's me thereA Snug as a thug in a mugshot poseBm Owner of this corner and not much moreA D E Still these days I'm better placed to get my just rewardsA I'll pound out a tune and very soonD E I'll have too much to say and a dead stupid name CHORUSA E Though I ought to be learning I feel like a veteranA E Of "Oh I like your poetry but I hate your poems"A E Calendars crumble I'm knee deep in numbersA E A Turned 21, I've twist, I'm bust and wrong again Rubbing shoulders with the sheets till two Looking at my watch and I'm half-past caring In the lap of luxury it comes to mind Is this headboard hard? Am I a lap behind? But to face doom in a sock-stenched room all by myself Is the kind of fate I never contemplate Lots of people would cry though none spring to mindD Know what it's like To sigh at the sight of the first quarter of life?Bm D Every stopped to think and found out nothing was there?E A They laugh to see such funBm D Playing Blind Man's Bluff all by myselfA And they're chanting a line from a nursery rhymeE D "Ba Ba Bleary Eyes - Have you any idea?"A E A E The calendar's cluttered with days that are numbered
Obscurity Knocks
Trashcan Sinatras
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Tom: