From a Dead Beat to an Old Greaser Songtext

From a dead beat to an old greaser, here's thinking of you.
You won't remember the long nights;
coffee bars; black tights and white thighs
in shop windows where blonde assistants fully-fashioned a world made
of dummies (with no mummies or daddies to reject them).
When bombs were banned every Sunday and the Shadows played F.B.I.
And tired young sax-players sold their instruments of torture
sat in the station sharing wet dreams of Charlie Parker,
Jack Kerouac, René Magritte, to name a few of the heroes
who were too wise for their own good left the young brood to