Lyrics:

2014
Writer(s): Ian Anderson

He stands at the crossroads of New St. and Old Town
Gerald Something from good-home-on-sea
Thinking back to the child that he once was
All bread and butter and jam for his tea

Men came and went in his moments of madness
Muttered apologies, late for a meeting
Too much intensity too much feigned sadness
Crestfallen, hangdog, glances too fleeting

He was your golden boy, he's adrift and dumfounded
With nowhere to go, no appointments to keep
He's our little man, he's adrift and dumfounded
Head on hard pillow, waiting for sleep

Broken societies, selfish, uncaring
Addled brains clutching at chemicals soothing
Desperate measures, desperately tearing
At last vestige of dignity, his for the losing

He was your golden boy, he's adrift and dumfounded
With nowhere to go, no appointments to keep
He's our little man, he's adrift and dumfounded
Head on hard pillow, waiting for sleep