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Cold Chisel Miscellaneous Showtime Showtime Hang a guitar on my shoulder Check the vacant drooling faces round the room Another heartbreak battle And I'm only getting older Jesus help me when I say I'll give it all up pretty soon Daytime Time to fight the morning's headache Gulp an aspirin bang together one more song Inspiration cauterised By years of useeless heartache Every shallow nights reaction sounding twisted up and wrong These last years Years gone down to the showtime Showtime Try to catch the spark That got me hooked so many years ago and died Second-rate musicians Feeding infantile illusions Reading music magazines to keep the habit satisfied Pitching To some demographic average What the hell he's staying home for, I don't see him here tonight Thirteen years and over Tuned to radio between the hours Of six and seven-thirty, AM programmer's delight These last years Years gone down to the showtime I never knew it could be So misleading Waiting for the final song to end In this dirty nightclub All the souls are bleeding Reaching for the big decision Disco floor or television Time and time again You hear the so-called friends The smug de-facto critics in their movie backdrop cities Sneering sitdown and listen Life's a lonely escalator It's a fool who doesn't know he has to leap off at the end Well they were never at the guesthouse With the ghost of Jimmy Rodgers Watching Townsville sugar sunsets back in 1959 And they'll all be gone when the end is come And I'm kneeling in the backroom Crying Lord I'm just a trouper, let me play it one more time |
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