The mirror shows
someone I don’t know
He looks so old and I wonder
if his story is all told
I have to say
I don’t feel that way
inside my heart the potential
to escape from turning gray

When I was young,
I told my mum
I was gonna get on that stage
and I was gonna tear it up, but
at 22, I already knew
I was staying clear of that big stage
Make my own way, I still want to

May I just reflect that I am here?
But that image you see,
well, I’m, I’m not there

The BBC, specifically
Radio 3 when I hear it
It doesn’t speak to me, no
Punk rock and roll
once was Rolled Gold
But now it’s getting so old that
it must be covered in mold, yech

May I just suggest that I’m nowhere?
But, darling, have no fear
cos I, I don’t care
as long as you are there