| Lyrics: | Ian McLagan, Ron Wood, Rod Stewart)
Cell block five, how I hate Bromide
With your
coffee in the morning makes you so sterile
The corner gang never made a man of me
boy
You know the walls are tall and the inmates scheme
There's no one here
that’s more than seventeen
Bet your life there's a riot tonight in the mess
hall
listen
A letter from your home town makes you sad
You read it when the wardens
had a second laugh
He said sentimental rubbish ain't got no place in here boy
See
the years roll on by
such a senseless waste of time
What a way to reform
Call out
your number
who's a nonconformer,
not me baby, oh yeah
Shakey Brown didn't
hang around
when a Molotow didn't do its stuff
You went back in there and said it with a
sawed-off shotgun
You know Poker Sam couldn't lose a hand
If he did you were hit by
a downtown tram
Or crushed in the path of a moving elevator, elevator
See the years
roll on by
such a senseless waste of time
What a way to reform
Call out your number
who's a nonconformer,
not me baby, oh yeah
When I get out, I'll get
straight
If this old world gives me half a break
But, if you see me in the corner with a
chip on my shoulder
Don't blame me, don't blame me baby, no, no
Got to make a break for
the county line |
