(Rossi/Parfitt)
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He is in his room, men will be there soon
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They come to smash the heaven he has known
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Now he's sure to know soon that he must go
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This backstreet dream he has to leave behind
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Oh, what a shame, oh what a shame
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He's a poor old man, poor old man
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Poor old man, can we help you?
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Things are at their worst, what should he do first?
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He must wonder, no one wants to know
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He must spread his wings, pack away his things
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A sack is all he needs for all he owns
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Tears they blind his eyes, tears blind his eyes
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He's a poor old man, poor old man
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Poor old man, can we help you at all?
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Poor old man, poor old man
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Poor old man, can we help you at all?
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Poor old man, poor old man
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Poor old man, can we help you at all?
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Poor Old Man
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Status Quo |