NW3

It was 1962

I was two years out of school

When I got on board a boat

That was bound for Liverpool

The day I went away

I remember it so well

Said goodbye to the North Wall

And bid a fond farewell

When I got down to the smoke

It was 1963

I got a job doing meals on wheels

Round NW3

I was terrorising grannies

For ten lousy bob a week

I was smashed and blacked

And drunk and yawning in NW3

In the filth and piss they lived in

They would sometimes hum an air

Or talk in tongues of madness

Keeping time upon a chair

And for their wrists a numbered tab

In Westminster morgue

On a cold hard slab

When I was still a young man

In NW3

Now I'm spent of love and rage

And I'm going home again

Never did nobody wrong

Never earned a decent wage

So thanks for sweet f**k all

Once more look at the North Wall

Say goodbye to all of that

And bid a fond farewell

At the top of the Pentonville Road

I watched the sun setting

The town spread out before me

Looked beautiful to me

Away from all the sighing

The suffering and the dying

I dreamed of the future

Of the young and the free

But the years they went by quickly

Now I swear I won't return here

Where each day just bring me closer

To the final misery

My kids will never scrape sh*t round here

I won't die crying in a pint of beer

Or eat their stinking meals on wheels

In NW3