The Boy with the Arab Strap
A mile and a half on a bus takes a long timeThe odour of old prison food takes a long time to pass you byWhen you've been insideDay upon day of this wandering gets you downNobody gives you a chance or a dollar in this old town
Hovering silence from you is a giveawaySqualor and smoke's not your style"I don't like this place"We better goThen I compare notes with your older sisterI am a lazy gett, she is as pure as the cold driven snowShe accepts my confession
What did you learn from your time in the solitaryCell of your mind?There was noises, distractions from anything goodAnd the old prison foodColour my life with the chaos of troubleCause anything's better than posh isolation1 missed the busYou were laid on your backWith the boy from the arab strapWith the boy from the arab strap
It's something to speak of the way you are feelingTo crowds there assembledDo you ever feel you have gone too far?Everyone suffers in silence a burdenThe man who drives minicabs down in Old ComptonThe Asian manWith his love hate affairWith his racist clientele
A central location for you is a must as you stagger about making free with your lewd and lascivious boastsWe know you are soft cause we've all seen you dancingWe know you are hard cause we all saw you drinking from noonUntil noon againYou're the boy with the filthy laughYou're the boy with the arab strap
Strapped to the table with suits from the shelter shopComic celebrity takes a back seat as the cigarette catchesAnd sets off the smoke alarmWhat do you make of the cool set in London?You're constantly updating your hit parade of your ten biggest wanksShe's a waitress and she's got styleSunday bathtime could take a while