The Who By Numbers lyrics

No one knows what it's like
To be the bad man
To be the sad man
Behind blue eyes

No one knows what it's like
To be hated
To be fated
To telling only lies
But my dreams
They aren't as empty
As my conscience seems to be

I have hours, only lonely
My love is vengeance
That's never free

No one knows what it's like
To feel these feelings
Like I do
And I blame you

Ain't it funny how they're all Cleopatra
When you gaze into their past
When you find out about their birth signs
You realize there was no need to have asked

All the history of a soul in torment
Ingrained in a hand or a face
Ain't it funny how they all fire the pistol
At the wrong end of the race

I am going round and round
I am going round and round
I am going round and round
I am going round

I'm feelin' so good right now
There's a handsome boy tells me how I changed his past
He buys me a brandy
But could it be he's really just after my ass

He likes the clothes I wear
He says he likes a man who's dressed in season
But no-one else ever stares, he's being so kind
What's the reason

How many friends have I really got
You can count 'em on one hand
How many friends have I really got

Some people seem so obsessed with the morning
Get up early just to watch the sun rise
Some people like it more when there's fire in the sky
Worship the sun when it's high
Some people go for those sultry evenings
Sipping cocktails in the blue, red and grey
But I like every minute of the day

I like every second, so long as you are on my mind
Every moment has its special charm

Where do you walk on sunny times
When the rivers gleam and the buildings shine
How do you feel goin' up hallowed halls
And the summer clothes brighten gloomy halls

And they're all in love
And they're all in love

Where do you fit in zzzzip magazine
Where the past is the hero and the present a queen
Just tell me right now where do you fit in
With mud in your eye and a passion for gin

Friday night, I'm on my way home
They oughta make work a crime
I'm home for the weekend
I'm gonna make the most of my time
There's a rock and roll singer on the television
Giving up his music, gonna take up religion
Deserted rock and roll
To try to save his soul

Saturday night, gotta gig with the band
Playing the electric guitar
Someday I'm gonna make it
Gonna be a super-duper-star

Imagine a man
Not a child of any revolt
But a plain man tied up in life

Imagine the sand
Running out as he struts
Parading and fading, ignoring his wife

Imagine a road
So long looking backwards
You can't see where it really began

Imagine a load
So large and so smooth
That against it a man is an ant

Then you will see the end
You will see the end

Imagine events
That occur everyday

I feel like I want to break out of the house
My heart is a-pumping, I've got sand in my mouth
I feel like I'm heading up to a cardiac arrest
I want to scream in the night, I want a manifest

I've got that wide awake, give-and-take, five o'clock-in-the-morning feeling
I've got the hots for the sluts in the well thumbed pages of a magazine

Mama's got a squeeze box
She wears on her chest
And when Daddy comes home
He never gets no rest

'Cause she's playing all night
And the music's all right
Mama's got a squeeze box
Daddy never sleeps at night

Well the kids don't eat
And the dog can't sleep
There's no escape from the music
In the whole damn street

'Cause she's playing all night
And the music's all right
Mama's got a squeeze box

I see myself on T.V., I'm a faker, a paper clown
It's clear to all my friends that I habitually lie; I just bring them down
I claim proneness to exaggeration
But the truth lies in my frustration
The children of the night, they all pass me by
Have to drench myself in brandy
In sleep I'll hide
But however much I booze
There ain't no way out
There ain't no way out
I don't care what you say, boy

One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight ...

I've got my clipboard, text books
Lead me to the station
Yeah, I'm off to the civil war
I've got my kit bag, my heavy boots
I'm runnin' in the rain
Gonna run till my feet are raw

Slip kid, slip kid, second generation
And I'm a soldier at thirteen
Slip kid, slip kid, realization
There's no easy way to be free
No easy way to be free