Adrift and Dumfounded - Ian Anderson

He stands at the crossroads of New St. and Old Town

Gerald Something from good-home-on-sea

Thinking back to the child that he once was

All bread and butter and jam for his tea

Men came and went in his moments of madness

Muttered apologies, late for a meeting

Too much intensity too much feigned sadness

Crestfallen, hangdog, glances too fleeting

He was your golden boy, he’s adrift and dumfounded

With nowhere to go, no appointments to keep

He’s our little man, he’s adrift and dumfounded

Head on hard pillow, waiting for sleep

Broken societies, selfish, uncaring

Addled brains clutching at chemicals soothing

Desperate measures, desperately tearing

At last vestige of dignity, his for the losing

He was your golden boy, he’s adrift and dumfounded

With nowhere to go, no appointments to keep

He’s our little man, he’s adrift and dumfounded

Head on hard pillow, waiting for sleep