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I Could Yawn And Be Withdrawn And Watch The World Go By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)