In a smoke-filled room   "How's it goin' then?"   "It's not goin' at all   We got no more gigs"   You always knew it could be better   But you never thought it would end   It only happens 'cause of other people   All the money that they spend   On David Bowie LP's      When I told her we were,   Finished   She smoked a cigarette and sighed   "One last fag before we,   Go home"   She said she loved me   Then she died   It doesn't happen like this!      So you always get what you pay for   But the end result is always the same   You lose everything you always wanted   Because you couldn't   Afford to pay   All the smoke-filled room contains   Is dejected people with no aims   A bottle of gin   A pack of cigs   Sing, brother, sing   We got not more gigs