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