What's to say, after all the gobshites we've
Endured over the decades of my life
I say this in the safety of a Salford eve
I say this in the absence of a wife
I'm free to say what I believe and strive
For, whatever that is, musically
A thing that's not important in the hive
Of queen bees telling me what I should see
Maybe I'm still short-sighted, obviously
But do they care about what I conceive
After decades of struggle and of strife
Rejection and fascistic obloquy
I'd still like to say just what I perceive
And that's what I'll do til I leave this life
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