In the middle of the road,
I'm standing in the middle of life with my pains behind me.
Long as you don't try dragging my bay,
Or dropping a bomb on the street.
In the middle of the road, yeah.
In the middle of the road,
You see the darnest things.
Like fat cats driving around in jeeps through the city,
Wearing big diamond rings and silk suits.
Past corrugated tin shacks holed up with kids and
Man I don't mean a Hampstead nursery.
But when you own a big chunk of the bloody third world,
The babies just come with the scenery.
In the middle of the road, yeah.
One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six.
In the middle of the road,
Is my private cul de sac.
I can't get from the cab to the curb,
Without some little jerk on my back,
Can't you tell I'm going home, I'm tired as hell,
I'm not the cat I used to be,
I've got a kid, I'm thirty-three baby.
In the middle of the road.