Текст Ian Dury – What A Waste

I could be the driver an articulated lorry
I could be a poet I wouldn’t need to worry
I could be a teacher in a classroom full of scholars
I could be the sergeant in a squadron full of wallahs

What a waste
What a waste
What a waste
What a waste

Because I chose to play the fool in a six-piece band
First-night nerves every one-night stand
I should be glad to be so inclined
What a waste! What a waste! But I don’t mind

I could be a lawyer with strategems and ruses
I could be a doctor with poultices and bruises
I could be a writer with a growing reputation
I could be the ticket man at Fulham Broadway Station

What a waste
What a waste
What a waste
What a waste

Because I chose to play the fool in a six-piece band
First-night nerves every one-night stand
I should be glad to be so inclined
What a waste! What a waste! But I don’t mind

I could be the catalyst that sparks the revolution
I could be an inmate in a long-term institution
I could dream to wide extremes, I could do or die
I could yawn and be withdrawn and watch the world go by

What a waste
What a waste

Because I chose to play the fool in a six-piece band
First-night nerves every one-night stand
I should be glad to be so inclined
What a waste! What a waste! But I don’t mind

Chose to play the fool in a six-piece band
First-night nerves every one-night stand
I should be glad to be so inclined
What a waste! What a waste! But I don’t mind
What a waste! What a waste! But I don’t mind