The Boy With The Arab Strap

A mile and a half on a bus takes a long time The odour of old prison food takes a long time to pass you by Day upon day of this wandering gets you down Nobody gives you a chance or a dollar in this old town Hovering silence from you is a giveaway Squalor and smoke's not your style “I don't like this place” We better go Then I compare notes with your older sister I am a lazy gett, she is as pure as the cold driven snow What did you learn from your time in the solitary Cell of your mind? There was noises, distractions from anything good And the old prison food Colour my life with the chaos of trouble Cause anything's better than posh isolation I missed the bus You were laid on your back With the boy from the arab strap With the boy from the arab strap It's something to speak of the way you are feeling To crowds there assembled Do you ever feel you have gone too far? Everyone suffers in silence a burden The man who drives minicabs down in Old Compton The Asian man With his love hate affair With his racist clientele A central location for you is a must as you stagger about making free with your lewd and lascivious boasts We know you are soft cause we've all seen you dancing We know you are hard cause we all saw you drinking from noon Until noon again You're the boy with the filthy laugh You're the boy with the arab strap Strapped to the table with suits from the shelter shop Comic celebrity takes a back seat as the cigarette catches And sets off the smoke alarm What do you make of the cool set in London? You're constantly updating your hit parade of your ten biggest wanks She's a waitress and she's got style Sunday bathtime could take a while