richard thompson
a solitary life
Sometimes I long for the solitary life Parents long gone, no kids, no wife Sister somewhere in Australia Never did keep in touch Sex no more than a how-do-ye-do With a copy of Tit-Bits in the loo Socially a bit of a failure Nice not to have to try too much A Solitary Life A life of small horizons Dull as the pewter sky over North West Eleven A serious hobby in the garden shed Model trains, or soldiers in lead Join the suburban boffins of Britain Experts on trivial things And holidays in the Yorkshire Dales Or cycling tours of the North of Wales Unenvious of those flea-bitten On continental flings A Solitary Life A life of small horizons Dull as the pewter sky over North West Eleven Excitement comes by subtle means The satisfaction of routines Small revenges at the office Smug little victories You work on your pallor, complexion like paste Like the grey defeat on an inmates face A life spent adding losses and profits Resigning by degrees A Solitary Life A life of small horizons Dull as the pewter sky over North West Eleven And come to the end, sad and alone A steady reliable tumour you’ve grown From selfish years, while all your peers Have stressfully jogged to health In life you always were quite numb And foggier now, you soon succumb In drab St Barts on the new by-pass Death overcomes by stealth A Solitary Life A life of small horizons Dull as the pewter sky over North West Eleven