| Forgive me if I’m out of order
|
| This new music has no soul
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| It may be good for making money
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| Sadly that is not my goal
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| Integrity and honesty
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| Are words that you don’t understand
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| But you’re the best
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| 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
|
| 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
|
| 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
|
| 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 |