Obscurity Knocks Trashcan Sinatras
[A]Always at the foot of the photograph - [Bm]that's me there
Snug as a thug in a [A]mugshot pose
[Bm]Owner of this corner and not much more
Still these[A] days I'm better placed[D] to get my just re[E]wards
I'll pound o[A]ut a tune and very soon
I'll have t[D]oo much to say and a dead stu[E]pid name
Though I o[A]ught to be learning I fe[E]el like a veteran
Of "O[A]h I like your poetry bu[E]t I hate your poems"
[A]Calendars crumble I'm k[E]nee deep in numbers
[A]Turned 21, I've tw[E]ist, I'm bust and wrong aga[A]in
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]Every stopped to think and fo[D]und out nothing was there?
[E]They laugh to see such f[A]un
Playing Blind Man's Bluff a[Bm]ll by myself [D]
[A]And they're chanting a line from a nursery rhyme
[E]"Ba Ba Bleary Eyes - Have y[D]ou any idea?"
[A]The calendar's clutte[E]red with d[A]ays that are num[E]bered
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