Philby Medium

by Rory Gallagher

Mode: Intermediate select mode

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Now ain't it I feel Philby,
There's a in my soul,
I'm lost in transit in a lonesome city,
I can't come in from the cold,
I'm deep in action on a secret mission,
Contact's broken down,
drags by, I'm above suspicion,
There's a on the telephone
Yeah, yeah, yeah.
Yeah, yeah, yeah.

Well it sure is dark in clockwork city,
Contact's show,
I've got a can't be broken,
My eyes never seem to close,
Well, I'm standing in the city,
Shadows falling down,
I'm disconnected but I don't need pity,
The night's gonna burn on slow.
Yeah, yeah, yeah.
Yeah, yeah, yeah.

Now ain't it funny I feel like Philby,
A stranger on a foreign shore,
I've got my plans and I move quickly,
There's a knock upon the door,
Still in transit and I'm to danger,
My can't be blown,
It's strange and it's getting crazy,
Tell me, is going on?
Yeah, yeah, yeah.
Yeah, yeah, yeah.

Four o'clock and nothing's moving,
Six o'clock and the daylight's stirring,
A comes, must be moving on.
All night long my mind's been burning,
Makes me feel such a long, long way from home,

Now ain't it strange that I feel Philby,
There's a stranger in my soul
I'm lost in transit in a city
I can't come in from the

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