I woke up in a Soho doorway
A policeman knew my name
He said you can go sleep at home tonight
If you can get up and walk away

I staggered back to the underground
And the breeze blew back my hair
I remember throwin' punches around
And preachin' from my chair

I took the tube back out of town
Back to the rollin' pin
I felt a little like a dying clown
With a streak of rin tin tin

I stretched back and I hiccupped
And looked back on my busy day
Eleven hours in the tin pan
God, there's got to be another way