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• Artiste: John Wesley Harding
• Titre: Dead Centre Of Town
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Dead Centre of TownI live in the dead centre of townWhere every landlorn sailor comes to drownWhere great ideas extinguish without soundAnd all my fickle friends have gone to groundSo they will not come round...And you ask me what the problem isI say it's obviousAnd I'm not lyingI live in the dead centre of townWith one foot in the grave and one undergroundWhere clocks don't go no matter how they're woundBoredom's king, unhappiness aboundsAnd you ask me what the problem isI say it's obviousAnd I'm not lyingOur town is dyingI live in the dead centre of hereWhere daughters treat their daddies like King LearWho says "death's a good career prospect, dear"Where sinners burn in hell for half a beerAnd you ask me what the problem isI say it's obviousAnd I'm not lyingOur town is dyingI live at the town centre of deathWhere even time is running out of breathShe crawls past gasping "how much have we got left?"**********I'll tell youWhat the problem isIt's oh so obviousAnd I'm not lyingOur town is dying