Much too early for the hurly burly of the morning crowd,
If I could cotton wool my ears, put blinkers on my eyes, find a seat in the corner
I might not despise, not that I
do, this jolly handbag brolly crew.

What I have to do to earn a crust, we all must, but I really, really want to shout quite loud, get outa my face, I want to run from the crowd and where would I run?

It's this city,
full of oh so pretty things
shiny,
buy me
take home and try me things.

This city clips your wings
nobody whistles
nobody sings
no one has time for the
simple things.

The things I have to do I must.
I must have things to do or die before
I'm due or try before I buy and take another fall and break my neck.