Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song The Man On Your Street, artist - The Happy Family. Album song The Man On Your Street, in the genre
Date of issue: 31.10.1982
Record label: 4AD
Song language: English
The Man On Your Street |
Now at last I’ve mastered |
This business of living |
Though I’ve lost my self-respect along the way |
(For worms like me a small price to pay!) |
Ambition was the road I sent my cars down |
Full of application forms and guns |
I scooped up what no-one else would stoop to |
I turned men to methods one by one |
Then again they loved me like a father |
Then again I sheltered them from choice |
(They were speechless so I used their voice!) |
In my extensive garden sheltered from the world I’ve made my faithful wife and |
daughter sit on benches in the rain awaiting me And although I’ve given them no |
special incentive their one pursuit and hobby is to reflect credit on me |
Now the world’s at the end of my tether |
In a last ditch bid to get it together |
I wake my wife in the night |
And ask her is our life right? |
But as her tired voice cracks |
And she starts to pretend |
I find myself at my own receiving end |
Disappointment crowns my years like grey hair |
And I’ve taught the world my point of view |
(It's in the saddest part of you) |
Better men than me have lost their freedom |
When my measures made them lose their cool |
Prizing head and heart will get you nowhere |
When your word commands a ship of fools |
Then again I’ve bred respect for virtue |
Then again I’ve set the terms for vice |
(My laws are simple and concise) |
I arrange for my ivy green limousine to break down amongst holly trees and |
seize a command performance from my beautiful daughter And as I commit this |
unnatural act by the shores of Lake Geneva I contemplate the fact that blood is |
much sexier than water |
Now the world’s at the end of my tether |
In a last ditch bid to get it together |
I appoint Maria the queen |
Of my happy office harem |
But as I smell the fear in the memos she sends |
I find myself at my own receiving end |
After all I’m just the man on your street |
In my cups I’m raking in my cut |
(It's a never-ending glut) |
When I’m patching up my reputation |
I confess a simple man’s misdeeds |
For the body in this robe of office |
Shares its skin with everything that bleeds |
Then again these powers have been my weakness |
Then again I may not live for long |
(While you think you need me I’ll be strong) |
In the darkness of this hat I keep my head in ever-accelerating |
Trains of thought are giving me a whale of time |
And as I mint the tin gods that will succeed me |
I cross your outstretched sweating palm with my portrait |
Metal and sublime |
Now the world’s at the end of my tether |
In a last ditch bid to get it together |
I remember my citizen’s rights |
And call for professional advice |
But as the cold phone croaks |
'Can I help you my friend?' |
I find myself at my own receiving end |