In your age, you've got blinds To show the good and bad times Sitting there singing songs of lament Wishing you were young and innocent You had too much too soon Can you get up, get out, give a poor man some room Like a dog with his bedtime bone Ain't no home when you're sitting there alone People come and people go And just hang around till they grow old You say something that you want heard But no-one is listening to your kind words Put all your bags down from nowhere And the people stand there, look up and stare They like the something, something winds But the man in the back row drinks all the tins