Philby Medium

by Rory Gallagher

Mode: Intermediate select mode

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

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

Now ain't it funny I feel like Philby,
A stranger on a shore,
I've got my and I must quickly,
There's a knock upon the door,
Still in and I'm close to danger,
My can't be blown,
It's getting and it's getting crazy,
Tell me, what 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, be on.
All night long my mind's burning,
Makes me feel such a long, long way from home,

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

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