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Mr. Tinker was a tailor |
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And he had a neon sign above his door |
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And he cooked his meals and he tried to sleep |
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In the one room shack directly behind the store |
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Above his dresser was a picture of his wife who passed awa-aa-ay |
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And next to that there was a picture of the boy who couldn't sta-aa-ay |
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Mr. Tinker was a jealous man |
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And he never smiled to the people who came to the store |
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And he envied them for the lifes they lived and the fun they had |
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And the colourful things they wore |
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It isn't easy for a tailor when there's nothing left to sew |
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He wishes he could mend his life but then there's no one left to show |
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Pa-pa-pa-para-pa-pa-pa, poor Mr. Tinker |
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Pa-pa-pa-para-pa-pa-pa, poor Mr. Tailor |
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Mr. Tinker was a tailor |
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And the tailor has a well respected trade |
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But who needs Mr. Tinker |
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When all the suits you buy are already made |
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P-|a-pa-pa-pa-pa-pa-pa-pa, poor Mr. Tinker |
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P-|a-pa-pa-pa-pa-pa-pa-pa, poor Mr. Tailor |
