I wish I was nasty, sullen or dumb
Or even an orphan with a drunk for a mum
Tried to get soul but my feet stayed on the ground
A well-balanced childhood is hard to live down
Faking Cybulski with the glasses and gun
Heading for Poland and the revolution
Got not much further than the outside of town
A well-balanced childhood is hard to live down
I had a chip on my shoulder, a saint for a mum
A glorious dream of martyrdom
But my folks bust the bubble, saying "We understand"
A well-balanced child makes a well-balanced man