I’m closing up the curtains to hide the light of day

And I’ll shut out all humanity ‘cos it’s turned a shade of grey

The patterns on my wallpaper are closing in on me

I wish my mind could tackle it ‘cos I’m longing to be free

The streets are cold and hungry unless your raincoat’s made of money

But I am running naked and society thinks it’s funny

I’m safe and warm at home, oh yes I’m feeling so secure

But my mind is turning sour and my thoughts are all obscure

I can’t let it control me, but my willpower’s giving in

And I’m twisted and distorted and I’m hungry and I’m thin

A kettle in the desert, a wishbone in a coffin

But now my face is smiling and my head is full of laughing

There’s a man inside my bedroom without a smiling face

‘Cos he’s battling with the elements in an everlasting race

His life is full of action, but he’s nothing in the end

And he thinks he’s getting value, but his life’s not his to spend

But I’d rather be inside my room, containing all my fears

Forgetting how to laugh and cry and drying up my tears

And I’ll just die a nobody but I’m different from the rest

‘Cos they have toiled and struggled, and I have dodged the test

© Chris Bond — 1983

Inner city heroin addiction in the early 1980s. A song written for the punk band for which I was a vocalist.