This is my forty-fifth depressing tune

They're looking for money as they clean my artistic womb

And when I give birth to the child I must take to flight

'Cause the black in our pocket won't let us fight

A proper fight



So hey baby

Can you shed some light on the problem maybe

'Cause we're all tired and we'd like to know

If we should pack our tents, shut down the show

Yes, we should like to see a burning bush-type sign

But anything would be fine



We're all told to dance but we never picked the tune

Hanging like puppets they feed us from bent steel spoons

But we're sealing our lips for the someday when the needle

And the vinyl play all the songs of the pain

Songs that explain

All our circles and strains



So hey baby

Can you shed some light on the problem maybe

'Cause we're all crying and we'd like to know

If we should pack our tents, shut down the show

Yes, we should like to see a burning bush-type sign

But anything would be fine



We're all dying and we'd like to know

If we should pack our tents, shut down the show

Yes, we should like to see a burning bush-type sign

And we should like to see you pack your tents, shut down your show

And we should like to see a burning bush-type sign

But anything would be fine

Oh, anything would be fine