It’s a Young Man’s Game

No corner shop, no launderette
No pound shop by the lights
No betting shop, no flower shop
No garage late at night

It's a road of many colours
But none of them so bright
It's Perrys 'For The Good Times', children
But Bookers 'Time Is Tight'

See I can still tie up my laces
I can read a book
I can show you precious love
If you choose to look

But reading books and tying laces
Can't do me much good
Not compared to feeling you
Just pumping through my blood

No milk round, nor no paper round
The post comes once a week
And the rain runs down so regularly
Like kisses don't on cheek

It's a life of opportunity
But none of them so bleak
As the feeling you're the only one
In a game of hide and seek

I can't fix no motorcar
I can't change no light
I can't do much anything
Than hold you close each night

I can't bend down quite so low
I can't reach so high
I can promise you the earth
But no longer the sky

It's a young man's game
Just join that social club don't complain
As life goes speeding by
Wipe that tear from your eye
It's a long way back from here to lover's lane

No chatting round a homemade fire
No warmth of nodding caps
The allotment and the shed I knew
Were both dug up for flats

We're deaf as posts, we're bald as coots
We're blind as bleeding bats
It's Eddie's 'Hey There Lonely Girl'
But 'hey there lonely chaps'

No post office, no telephone box
Communications gone
It's a lively conversation
With participant of one

No cat or dog just passing by
No neighbour once in a while
No pat or tap on window pane
To force you into smile

At 9 you think that 29
Is pretty close to death
At 20 think that 45
You're rounding your last breath
Suddenly at 40, 50 rushes in
55 & 65
You wipe like spit from chin
But 75 and 85
That dribble's part of grin
The grin that life turned upside down
And passed to next of kin

So bees to the hive, go the over 65
On promise of the last crumb from tin
Wasps to the nest go the least welcome of guests
On the scent of tepid tea and iceless gin
It's a young man's game