|
I've got a little secret for ya |
|
|
|
Even now there's something |
|
To be proud about |
|
You come up the hard way |
|
And they'll remind you every day |
|
You're nothing |
|
|
|
Oh my words in your mouth |
|
Are mumbled all about |
|
You're like a journalist |
|
How you can cut and paste and twist |
|
You're awful |
|
|
|
Tell it to your king |
|
Tell him everything you know |
|
Tell him you know how I feel |
|
Tell him you know how I feel at the palace gates |
|
Oh I'm all levered off my face |
|
And just to work out what it's on about |
|
And see snakes in eyes |
|
And danger signs |
|
|
|
If you were late you mustn't dare complain |
|
And you won't like this at all |
|
There's nothing to break your fall |
|
|
|
Oh tell it to your king |
|
Tell him everything you know |
|
And you know how I feel out of place |
|
Until I'm levered off my face |
|
And I can't work out what your on about |
|
Didn't they explain |
|
You have to play the game, oh-oh |
|
|
|
Jack drinks and smokes his cares away |
|
His heart is in the lonely way |
|
Living in the ruins |
|
Of a castle built on sand |