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Crowded House

from First Person Singular by Robin Tymm

/

lyrics

I wouldn't make much of a Rolling Stone
My walking shoes have gathered too much moss
And I'd rather follow than to lead a crowd along
So I've resigned myself I'll never be The Boss

CHORUS
The irony is not lost on me
But it took a while to work my story out
Sitting home alone listening to Crowded House

I've not broken many hearts along the way
So Petty wouldn't let me join his band
And I can't fly like some majestic bird of prey
So Don and Glen, I truly understand

CHORUS
The irony is not lost on me
But it took a while to work my story out
Sitting home alone listening to Crowded House

BRIDGE
I'm no Pistol, I'm no Killer
I couldn't Squeeze into The Doors
I'm no Floyd or Led or Grateful Dead
No Beach Boy or The Cure
There are some things that I could be
There are more things that I ain't
I've got too much money in the bank
To be in Dire Straits

I've straightened out every little Kink I've ever had
Now Ray Davies never once returns my calls
Perhaps I could audition for a Texas country band
I'd be a Dixie Chick if I only had the balls

CHORUS
The irony is not lost on me
But it took a while to work my story out
Sitting home alone listening to Crowded House
Sitting home alone listening to Crowded House
Sitting home alone listening to Crowded House

© 2013 Robin Tymm
28th July 2013

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from First Person Singular, released November 10, 2018

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Robin Tymm Ashbourne, UK

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