Texty

I could be the driver in an articulated lorry I could be a poet, I wouldn't need to worry I could be the teacher in a classroom full of scholars I could be the sergeant in a squadron full of wallahs What a waste! What a waste! What a waste! What a waste! Because I tried to play the fool in a six-piece band First-night nerves every one-night stand I should be glad to be so inclined What a waste! What a waste! But the world don't mind I could be a lawyer with stratagems and muses I could be a doctor with poultices and bruises I could be a writer with a growing reputation I could be the ticket-man at Fulham Broadway station What a waste! What a waste! What a waste! What a waste! Because I tried to play the fool in a six-piece band First-night nerves every one-night stand I should be glad to be so inclined What a waste! What a waste! But the world don't mind I could be the catalyst that sparks the revolution I could be an inmate in a long-term institution I could lead to wide extremes, I could do or die I could yawn and be withdrawn and watch them gullify What a waste! What a waste! What a waste! What a waste! Because I tried to play the fool in a six-piece band First-night nerves every one-night stand I should be glad to be so inclined What a waste! What a waste! But the world don't mind Chose to play the fool in a six-piece band First-night nerves every one-night stand I should be glad to be so inclined What a waste! What a waste! But the world don't mind What a waste! What a waste! But the world don't mind Chose to play the fool in a six-piece band First-night nerves every one-night stand I should be glad to be so inclined What a waste! What a waste! But the world don't mind
Writer(s): Carl Barat, Peter Doherty Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
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