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Forgive me if I'm out of order |
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This new music has no soul |
|
It may be good for making money |
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Sadly that is not my goal |
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Integrity and honesty |
|
Are words that you don't understand |
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But you're the best |
|
It says so in the Penny Dreadful in your hand |
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I saw you in a magazine |
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They're calling you Messiah |
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They must be living in a dream |
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They couldn't be more wrong |
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"Oh, if we'd played this riff more punk |
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Than may be we'd have had a million-seller" |
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But this piper's tune is not for sale |
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I'm glad to say I'm not that kind of fella |
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DJ's, VJ's, pimps and trollops |
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Never mind music, this is bollocks |
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I saw you in a magazine |
|
They're calling you Messiah |
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They must be living in a dream |
|
They couldn't be more wrong |
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Turn on! Tune up! |
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Cash in! Sell out! |
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Stand your ground behind the times |
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And refuse to follow fashion |
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Write your poetry with anger |
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And then sing it with a passion |
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Painted faces in a circus |
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Images that spring to mind, |
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When I read my Penny Dreadful |
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Filled with pictures of your kind |
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I saw you in a magazine |
|
They're calling you Messiah |
|
They must be living in a dream |
|
They couldn't be more wrong |
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Commercial suicide's appealing |
|
After 10 years on this losing streak |
|
'cause I'd rather be called sour and bitter |
|
Than be deemed the flavour of the week |
|
I saw you in a magazine |
|
They're calling you Messiah |
|
They must be living in a dream |
|
They couldn't be more wrong |
|
(Extra, extra, read all about it!) |
|
I saw you in a magazine |
|
They're calling you Messiah |
|
They must be living in a dream |
|
They couldn't be more wrong |
