Lyrics:

2014
Writer(s): Ian Anderson

I was no good on the rugger field
Pushing and kicking, brutish boys bothered me
Sensitive and caring seemed the lighter, brighter way to be

Mr Jennings, good housemaster, seemed instinctively to understand
Touched me with his gentle presence
Under bedclothes, underhand. Underhand
Overnight, he did a runner, threatened with harsh expose
I fell to pieces, dropped out of classes into life's endless melee
Endless melee

Parents listened, didn't get it. Poof and Jesse, Daddy said
Mummy tried but fussed and fretted, skeletons best left under bed
Under the bed

Camden Market in the winter
A cold stone's throw from Kentish Town
Got a minute? Just the ticket!
Meet the boys and mess around
And mess around
Independence far from suburbia
Doss down and dirty, tucked up tight
How's your father? Not too chipper?
Serves the bugger flippin' right
Flippin' right
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Parents listened, didn't get it. Poof and Jesse, Daddy said
Mummy tried but fussed and fretted, skeletons best left under bed
On the streets a rude survival, hot like-minded overtures
Sad departure, sweet arrival. If you don't like it, right up yours!

There comes a point when deep conviction bears down hard on who you are
Pointless to don cloak of denial
Get the lead out and swing it far... swing it far...
Swing it far... swing it far... swing it far... swing it