Mott The Hoople

(ian hunter)
Forgot my six-string razor - hit the sky
Half way to memphis fore I realised
Well I rang the information - my axe was cold
They said she rides the train to oreoles
Now its a mighty long way down the dusty trail
And the sun burns hot on the cold steel rails
n I look like a bum n I crawl like a snail
All the way from memphis
Well I got to oreoles yknow - it took a month
And there was my guitar, electric junk.
Some spade said "rocknrollers, youre all the same.
Man thats your instrument." I felt so ashamed.
Now its a mighty long way down rocknroll
Through the bradford cities and the oreoles