Always at the foot of the photograph That's me there Snug as a thug in a mugshot pose A foul-mouthed rogue Owner of this corner and not much more Still these days I'm better placed to get my just reward I'll pound out a tune and very soon I'll have too much to say, and a dead stupid name And though I ought to be learning I feel like a veteran Of "Oh, I like your poetry, but I hate your poems!" Calendars crumble, I'm knee-deep in numbers I've turned twenty-one I've twist, I'm bust, I'm wrong again. Rubbing shoulders with the sheets 'til 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'd never contemplate Lots of people would cry Though none spring to mind And though I ought to be learning I feel like a veteran Of "Oh, I like your poetry, but I hate your poems!"
Calendars crumble, I'm knee-deep in numbers I've turned twenty-one I've twist, I'm bust, I'm wrong again. Know what it's like to sigh at the sight of the first quarter of life? Ever stopped to think and found out nothing was there? They laugh to see such fun I'm playing blind-man's bluff all by myself And they're chanting a line from a nursery rhyme "Baa, baa bleary eyes have you any idea?" Yes, I'm learning I must be a veteran Of "Oh, I like your poetry, but I hate your poems!" And the calendar's cluttered with days that are numbered I've turned twenty-one I've twist, I'm bust, I'm wrong again (Got to be learning) Twist I'm bust I'm wrong again (Feel like a veteran) Twist I'm bust I'm wrong again (Calendar's cluttered, days that are numbered) And I know what it's like to sigh at the sight of the first quarter of life I know what it's like