| Seems the fashion’s for one-liners these days* |
| The kind that get up everyone’s nose, |
| So much back-slapping that the vertabrae |
| Are fatally exposed… |
| Me, I’m pushing thirty, pulling sixteen, |
| Though much of what’s around me is dead. |
| They got so shirty when I tried to glean |
| The meaning from what they’d said: |
| «If you wanna be a viable artist when you’re twenty-five |
| You’d better be a meat-head by the time you’re twenty-one.» |
| But now I’m pushing thirty and I’m still alive, |
| So tell me who, tell me who, |
| Tell me who, yeah, tell me who has won? |
| See the survivors in the upcoming acts, |
| They and the moguls make a regular killing — |
| Others take it lying on their backs, |
| Young blood is always so willing. |
| Me, I’m pushing thirty, that’s the way it is, |
| Too late to change my mind. |
| They play it dirty in the record biz |
| And you’ve got to toe the line. |
| If you wanna be an A & R man when the singing’s done |
| You’d better make sure that you hedge your bets. |
| Me, I’m pushing thirty and still having fun, |
| I haven’t stopped, I haven’t stopped, |
| I haven’t stopped, I haven’t stopped that yet! |
| All the writers watch each other for the way to go, |
| Follow each other like lemmings — |
| Swear they’re all waiting for Nicky Lowe |
| To turn out like David Hemmings… |
| Me, I’m pushing thirty and the steady zone, |
| Perhaps I should retire, |
| But even if it all deserts me and I’m left alone |
| I still know that I’m fuelled by fire. |
| In this rubbish world you’ve got to keep that under the lid, |
| 'cos they all hope it’ll disappear… |
| But even though I’m pushing thirty, |
| Maybe on the skids, |
| I still can be, I still can be, |
| I still can be, I still can be Nadir! |
| I still can be Nadir! |
| Yes, I still can be Nadir! |
| Got a sixteen-year-old heart! |