INTRO: A A Bm Always at the foot of the photograph - that's me there A Snug as a thug in a mugshot pose Bm Owner of this corner and not much more A D E Still these days I'm better placed to get my just rewards A I'll pound out a tune and very soon D E I'll have too much to say and a dead stupid name CHORUS A E Though I ought to be learning I feel like a veteran A E Of "Oh I like your poetry but I hate your poems" A E Calendars crumble I'm knee deep in numbers A 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 mind D 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 fun Bm D Playing Blind Man's Bluff all by myself A And they're chanting a line from a nursery rhyme E D "Ba Ba Bleary Eyes - Have you any idea?" A E A E The calendar's cluttered with days that are numbered