Baker Street Muse (Mother England Reverie) Lyrics

I have no time for Time Magazine or Rolling Stone.
I have no wish for wishing-wells or wishing bones.
I have no house in the country I have no motor-car.
And if  you think I'm joking,  then I'm just  a one-line joker in  a public
    bar.
And it seems there's no-body left for tennis; and I'm a one-band-man.
And I want no Top Twenty funeral or a hundred grand.

There was a little boy stood on a burning log, rubbing his hands with glee.
    He said, "Oh Mother  England, did you light my smile; or did you light
    this fire under me?
One day I'll be a minstrel in the gallery.
And paint you a picture of the queen.
And if sometimes I sing to a cynical degree -
It's just the nonsense that it seems.
So  I  drift down  through  the  Baker  Street valley,  in  my  steep-sided
    un-reality.
And when all's said and all's done - couldn't wish for a better one.
It's a real-life ripe dead-certainty - that I'm just a Baker Street Muse.

Talking to the gutter-stinking, winking in the same old way.
I tried to catch my eye but I looked the other way.

Indian restaurants that curry my brain -
Newspaper warriors  changing  the names  they  advertise from  the  station
    stand. Circumcised with cold print hands.

Windy bus-stop. Click. Shop-window. Heel.
Shady gentleman. Fly-button. Feel.
In the underpass, the blind man stands. With cold flute hands.
Symphony match-seller, breath out of time -
You can call me on another line.

Didn't make her - with my Baker Street Ruse.

Couldn't shake her - with my Baker Street Bruise.
Like to take her - I'm just a Baker Street Muse.
I'm just a Baker Street Muse. Just a Baker Street Muse.
Just a Baker Street Muse.