Text: Stereophonics. Looks Like Chaplin.

I feel the wash, close down the street,
Yet Chaplin walks, feet nine fifteen,
And I hear them, hear them, call his name,
And I see him, see him, turn away,

They take him in, clean him up, ha na, ha na na

They take him in, and strip him down,
They dry his skin and feed him wine,
And I hear them, hear them, call his name
And I see him, see him turn away,

Asks to use the phone, yet he lives alone, he lives alone
There's no-one, no-one home to phone,
Sits alone at home, he calls his home his own,
His wife is still unknown