Wading through the chaos to where the crones sit,
It’s where my bones fit, where I’m comfortable.
No-one can deny me my natural instincts:
They’re what I’m drawn to, where I waste my time.

Rationalise your own revolution:
It can be easily compressed.
Touch his skin, he feels like a man.
Touch his skin, he feels like a man.
Make light of greedy promoters:
They can be easily bypassed.
Touch his skin, he feels like a man.
Touch his skin, he feels like a man.

That fly, that damned fly
Makes me sick, leaves me compromised.
There must be a logic behind the madness.
If it’s financial then it’s deeply flawed.
Someone should remind them that in this business
Bad acoustics are an awful start.

Rationalise your own revolution:
It can be easily compressed.
Touch his skin, he feels like a man.
Touch his skin, he feels like a man.
Make light of greedy promoters:
They can be easily bypassed.
Touch his skin, he feels like a man.
Touch his skin, he feels like a man.

That fly, that damned fly
Makes me sick, leaves me compromised.

Rationalise your own revolution:
It can be easily compressed.
Without the young and the desperate,
They won’t have anyone left.