Chris Rea Guitar Street
There's a crazy sense of duty As he licks between his fingers And wipes the ketchup from his face and hands There's a strong determination That his teachers never witnessed Never close enough to understand He's like a bull Just bred for fighting And he don't deliver nothing Outside the only thing he knows School-report just says he's lazy His brother thinks he's crazy But anyway, take a look 'Cos there he goes... All through the avenues of fashion To the palaces of dreams All the way down Guitar Street To some, guitars are hot-rods All along the quest for macho To others a would-be ticket out of town For Joe; a six-string sten gun In the "panto-revolution" And Stevies all just strictly sound, And he's just a bull that's bred for fighting Just bred for fighting And he don't deliver nothing Outside the only thing he knows School-report just says he's lazy His brother thinks he's crazy But anyway, take a look 'Cos there he goes... All through the avenues of fashion To the palaces of dreams All the way down Guitar Street
