Cream suit and a bouncing quiff Strumming soulfully under crossing laser The adulation and worldwide fame Rolling Stone call him a trailblazer Memories of hits and tabloid acclaim That street boy really did well He’s sees what used to be the norm From inside a hood like a snail in its shell Playing backstreet decaying old clubs Attempting songs with junkies and drunks Falling inside and outside of pubs Unearthly sounds sang from drunken solitude Now looking at the sea All waves and shivering cold Nobody recognises this riff man So tired so withered so old Time to leave a legacy A name and a tune in the air Radio got bored years ago So he falls down to the people who really care