Hello to you, my sweet young friends

Have you got money perhaps you could lend?

I wash my leather face in the afternoon sun

My shirt's turn my time's near done



Touching the untouchables but they don't know

Respect the disrespectables, but in the end you know

You turn away, what can I say?



Spend my nights in the telephone booth

I make sure I leave the phone off the hook

There are no Jones' and I pay no rent

I have to stand straight because my back's so bent

Tell my secretary I ain't takin' any calls,

And if you want to find me, just ask the boys...

Down at the wall...That's where I'll be...



Oh...

Oh oh oh