(Thompson/Barson)
He hums tonight through his streets,
My unlatched window the tune repeats,
The kerb-crawling car winds down to a stop
A few seconds mumble then whisks him off
Sick and tired of abuse,
Controlled signs of hysteria,
But like when dawn arrives,
He remembers his leisure
He runs tonight through his block,
A crack in the curtain is unlocked
No meeting with a mother or greeting a friend
A sharp-looking boot-jack with some time to spend
Sick and tired of abuse,
Controlled signs of hysteria,
But like when dawn arrives,
He remembers his leisure
He cries tonight
Through his manner
I can see his conscience
Get the better
From a door-way stepped in
Shadowed leather
Exchanging handshakes for money
And pleasure
He crawls tonight through his scum,
From my dirty window his body's num
Beneath the street-lamp tilts shoulders bent,
Then meets his pick-up who pays his rent
Sick and tired of abuse,
Controlled signs of hysteria,
But like when dawn arrives,
He remembers his leisure
His pleasure