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Forgive me if I’m out of order

This new “music” has no soul

It may be good for making money

Sadly that is not my goal

Integrity and honesty are words that you don’t understand

But you’re the best – it says so in the penny dreadful in your hand

I saw you in the magazine

They’re calling you messiah

They must be living in a dream

They couldn’t be more wrong

Oh if we’d played this riff more punk

Than may be we’d have had a million seller

But this piper’s tune is not for sale

I’m glad to say I’m not that kind of fella

DJs, VJs, pimps and trollops

Never mind music – this is bollocks...

I saw you in the magazine

They’re calling you messiah

They must be living in a dream

They couldn’t be more wrong

(Ah... ah... ah... oh!)

Turn on, tune up, cash in, sell out

Turn on, tune up, cash in, sell out

Stand your ground behind the times

And refuse to follow fashion

Write your poetry with anger

And then sing it with a passion

Painted faces in a circus – images that spring to mind

When I read my penny dreadful filled with pictures of your kind

I saw you in the magazine

They’re calling you messiah

They must be living in a dream

They couldn’t be more wrong

Commercial suicide’s appealing after ten years on this losing streak

‘Cause I’d rather be called sour and bitter then be deemed the flavor of the week

Of the week, of the week, week of the week

I saw you in the 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 the magazine

They’re calling you messiah

They must be living in a dream

They couldn’t be more wrong