| I don’t know, can’t you see |
| I’m just passing through, fast as you — |
| don’t ask me. |
| Careering out of control |
| disappearing down the black hole, |
| careering — the white man’s soul |
| stands stark naked in the floodlight glare, |
| stands stark raving on the strap. |
| I’ve had the feeling that I’ve been there |
| but I can’t quite believe it. |
| I don’t know, can’t you see |
| I’m just passing through, fast as you |
| so don’t ask me. |
| Careering, simply day to day, |
| engineering everything I say, |
| careering for the work and the pay. |
| I’m just a passenger passing through, |
| I’m just an average chap. |
| (We are normal.) |
| If I said I hadn’t got a clue |
| there’d still come the questions. |
| I don’t know, can’t you see |
| I’m just another case of wasted space |
| so don’t ask me. |
| Careering, my apprenticeship |
| no nearer than my pension slip; |
| careering down the Cresta Run, |
| I screw it up just like anyone; |
| careering — pointless anyway |
| to do it just for the work and the pay. |
| Look here: |
| I don’t know, can’t you see |
| I’m so near the end, get it straight, friend — |
| don’t ask me, |
| don’t ask me, |
| don’t ask me. |