The Moon Upstairs by Mott The Hoople

(ian hunter/mick ralphs)

Well my brother he was a drinking man
And i asked him for release
He said this won't do you no good
And sent for the police

Well they busted me for nothing
Cos they said i was insane
So they let my body go
But they locked away my brain

Well i wandered freely as a bird that had broken both its wings
And i hated them and they hated me and i hated everthing
And i realise that to survive well my body is not mine
And i feel neglected feel rejected
Living in the wrong time

And to those of you who always laugh
Let this be your epitaph

And my head is down and i'm called a clown by comedians that grace
The living stage of every page of worthless meaningless space
But i swear to you before we're though you're gonna feel our every blow
We ain't bleeding you we're feeding you but you're too f*cking slow

And to those of you who always laugh
Let this be your epitaph