In a smoke-filled room
"How's it goin' then?"
"It's not goin' at all
We got no more gigs"
You always knew it could be better
But you never thought it would end
It only happens 'cause of other people
All the money that they spend
On David Bowie LP's

When I told her we were,
Finished
She smoked a cigarette and sighed
"One last fag before we,
Go home"
She said she loved me
Then she died
It doesn't happen like this!

So you always get what you pay for
But the end result is always the same
You lose everything you always wanted
Because you couldn't
Afford to pay
All the smoke-filled room contains
Is dejected people with no aims
A bottle of gin
A pack of cigs
Sing, brother, sing
We got not more gigs