If my friends could see me now, driving round just like a film star,
In a chauffeur-driven jam-jar, they would laugh.
They would all be saying that itâ??s not really me.
They would all be asking who Iâ??m trying to be.
If my friends could see me now, looking out my hotel window,
Dressed in satin strides and two-tone daisy roots.
If my friends could see me now I know they would smile.
Sitting in my hotel, hiding from the dramas of this great big world.
Seven storeys high, looking at the world go by-y.
Sitting in my hotel room, thinking â??bout the countryside
and sunny days in June
Trying to hide the gloom, sitting in my hotel room.
If my friends could see me now, dressing up in my bow-tie,
Prancing round the room like some outrageous poof.
They would tell me that Iâ??m just being used.
They would ask me what Iâ??m trying to prove.
They would see me in my hotel, watching late shows â??til the morning,
Writing songs for old-time vaudeville revues.
All my friends would ask me what itâ??s all leading to.
Sitting in my hotel, looking through the window at the people in the street.
Seven storeys high, looking at the world go by-y.
Sitting in my hotel, looking at the world outside.
If my friends could see me now, they would try to understand me,
They would ask what on earth Iâ??m trying to prove.
All my friends would ask me what itâ??s all leading to.