I could be the driver an articulated lorry

I could be a poet I wouldn't need to worry

I could be a teacher in a classroom full of scholars

I could be the sergeant in a squadron full of wallahs

What a waste

What a waste

What a waste

What a waste



CHORUS:

Because I chose to play the fool in a six-piece band,

First-night nerves every one-night stand.

I should be glad to be so inclined.

What a waste! What a waste!

But I don't mind.



I could be a lawyer with strategems and ruses

I could be a doctor with poultices and bruises

I could be a writer with a growing reputation

I could be the ticket man at Fulham Broadway Station

What a waste (x4)



Repeat CHORUS



I could be the catalyst that sparks the revolution

I could be an inmate in a long-term institution

I could dream to wide extremes, I could do or die

I could yawn and be withdrawn and watch the world go by

What a waste (x4)



Repeat CHORUS



(Repeat CHORUS with crescendo, then again with fade