Paroles

Hello to you, my sweet, young friends Have you got money, perhaps you could lend? I wash my leather face in the afternoon sun My shirt's torn, my time's near done Touching the untouchables, but they don't know Respect the disrespectables, but in the end you know You turn away What can I say? Spend my nights in the telephone booth I make sure I leave the phone off the hook There are no Joneses and I pay no rent I gotta stand straight 'cause my back's so bent Tell my secretary, I ain't takin' any calls If you want to find me, just ask the boys Down at the wall That's where I'll be Oh-oh-oh Oh-oh-oh Oh-oh-oh Oh-oh-oh Oh-oh-oh Oh-oh-oh, oh-oh-oh, oh-oh-oh Oh-oh-oh, oh-oh-oh, oh-oh-oh Park bench and cigarettes Can you help me get off this fence? Can't you see? I'm just an old man Tryin' hard, do what I can Touching the untouchables, but they don't know Respect the disrespectables, but in the end you know You turn away What can I say? You'll never, never know You'll never know
Writer(s): Colin James Hay, Ronald Graham Strykert Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
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