|
(Brooker) |
|
I keep rolling like a wagon wheel |
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What keeps me going are these nerves of steel |
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And two good hands to keep me clothed and fed |
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A pair of feet to stagger to my bed |
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A heart of gold and fists of iron |
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A tongue of silver that's bought me time |
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Well I'm a mineral man |
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stuck here in the can |
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till I oxidise |
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Well I'm a guest of the State, |
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I'll sit here and wait |
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'cos I'm subsidised |
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When I'm moving like a ton of lead |
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There's nothing stops me on the road ahead |
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My skin is bronzed from my head to my toes |
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people looking everywhere I go |
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A heart of gold and fists of iron |
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a tongue of silver for to spin some line |
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Well I'm a mineral man |
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stuck here in the can |
|
till I oxidise |
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Well I'm a guest of the State, |
|
I'll sit here and wait |
|
till I'm let outside |
