Shame — Alan Price

Johnny walks down the main street With a briefcase in his hand He's been working all day in a white collar job Which he was told was the promised land

He kisses Mrs. Norma on the cheek And that's his little son Sam But meanwhile we know at the back of his neck That Johnny would rather be dead

But it doen't bother anybody no more Life has closed the door Shame, shame, shame, shame, shame

Jenny's on the switchboard holding the line For a gentleman in Bombay She doesn't have to bother listen to him 'Cause she doesn't care what he says

She cleans her nails with a paperclip And watches the clouds roll by And nobody seems to understand That there's a tear in Jenny's eye

But it doen't bother anybody no more Life has closed the door Shame, shame, shame, shame, shame

But it doen't bother anybody no more Life has closed the door Shame, shame, shame, shame, shame

Jenny's on the switchboard holding the line For a gentleman in Bombay She doesn't have to bother listen to him 'Cause she doesn't care what he says

She cleans her nails with a paperclip And watches the clouds roll by And nobody seems to understand That there's a tear in Jenny's eye

Jenny's on the switchboard holding the line For a gentleman in Bombay She doesn't have to bother listen to him 'Cause she doesn't care what he says

And Johnny walks down the main street With a briefcase in his hand He's been working all day in a white collar job Which he was told was the promised land