Winter nineteen eighty one down at the station
Sleeping bag and sixty three pounds heading for Waterloo station
Last night I shook my fathers hand told him I was leaving
But as the train goes past the docks my heart stays unbelieving
Sometimes I wish I was rich
Sometimes I wish that I was dead
Sometimes I wish that I was back on the train
Sometimes I wish that I was home again
But I'm strutting with the cats
Running with the dogs
Drinking down the poison to the bottom of the dregs
Looking for the secret of the little white bags
Sometimes I wish I was rich
Sometimes I wish that I was dead
Sometimes I wish that I was back on the train
Sometimes I wish that I was home again
But I'm strutting with the cats
Running with the dogs
Drinking down the poison to the bottom of the dregs
Looking for the secret of the little white bags
All the friends I left behind die slowly on the dole
The factory on the big estate has swallowed my best friend whole
Now I'm living in a Hammersmith squat watching an old TV
On the screen the days go by and never stop for me
Sometimes I wish I was rich
Sometimes I wish that I was dead
Sometimes I wish that I was back on the train
Sometimes I wish that I was home again
But I'm strutting with the cats
Running with the dogs
Drinking down the poison to the bottom of the dregs
Looking for the secret of the little white bags
Sleeping bag and sixty three pounds heading for Waterloo station
Last night I shook my fathers hand told him I was leaving
But as the train goes past the docks my heart stays unbelieving
Sometimes I wish I was rich
Sometimes I wish that I was dead
Sometimes I wish that I was back on the train
Sometimes I wish that I was home again
But I'm strutting with the cats
Running with the dogs
Drinking down the poison to the bottom of the dregs
Looking for the secret of the little white bags
Sometimes I wish I was rich
Sometimes I wish that I was dead
Sometimes I wish that I was back on the train
Sometimes I wish that I was home again
But I'm strutting with the cats
Running with the dogs
Drinking down the poison to the bottom of the dregs
Looking for the secret of the little white bags
All the friends I left behind die slowly on the dole
The factory on the big estate has swallowed my best friend whole
Now I'm living in a Hammersmith squat watching an old TV
On the screen the days go by and never stop for me
Sometimes I wish I was rich
Sometimes I wish that I was dead
Sometimes I wish that I was back on the train
Sometimes I wish that I was home again
But I'm strutting with the cats
Running with the dogs
Drinking down the poison to the bottom of the dregs
Looking for the secret of the little white bags