It`s the fantastic drowse of the afternoon Sundays That bored you to rages of tears The unending pleading, to waste all your good times In thoughts of your middle aged years It`s a vertical hold, all the things that you`re told For the everyday hero it all turns to zero And there`s all the more reason for living or dying When you`re young and your troubles are all very small
Out here on the street We`d gather and meet And scuff up the sidewalk with endlessly restless feet And half of the time We`d broaden our minds More in the poolhall than we did in the schoolhall With the downtown chewing-gum bums Watching the nightlife, the lights and the fun
Never wanted to be the boy next door Always thought I`d be something more But it ain`t easy for a smalltown boy It ain`t easy at all Thinkin` it right, doin` it wrong It`s easier from an armchair Waves of alternatives wash at my sleepiness Have my eggs poached for breakfast I guess
I think I`ll be Clint Eastwood Oh no, Jimi Hendrix, he looks good Let`s try William The Conqueror Now who else do I like?
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