Touching The Untouchables

Hello to you, my sweet young friends Have you got money perhaps you could lend? I wash my leather face in the afternoon sun My shirt's turn my time's near done Touching the untouchables but they don't know Respect the disrespectables, but in the end you know You turn away, what can I say? Spend my nights in the telephone booth I make sure I leave the phone off the hook There are no Jones' and I pay no rent I have to stand straight because my back's so bent Tell my secretary I ain't takin' any calls, And if you want to find me, just ask the boys... Down at the wall...That's where I'll be... Oh... Oh oh oh