I wrote a little tune that just sent me to the moon
But I couldn't find the words that would have fit.
So I called up my dear friend as a means unto an end,
And he gave me words to save me for a bit.

But it's all stuff and nonsense, and the tune won't sell for tenpence,
And nothing's going the way I like--not at all!
You can't say to a lass anything to make a pass
For it's true that pride will come before a fall.

And this fall that I have taken has left my mind a-shaken,
For I'm quite unable to take another stand.
The statesmen and the boss have raped the working class
Its result is that I dance upon command.

Someone's working nights humming tunes I used to write
And they're not the brightest star in all the sky.
When I hear the men a-humming when they're hard at work a-slumming
I fear that I might break and cry.

I bought a new supply and I set to asking why
That it was that I could see the lines within me.
But then my chums found out, and they sat down to pout
Till I broke down and gave them all the skinny.

In a psychedelic haze we have walked within the blaze
And we never even realize what we've done
Until we're all asleep and in our dreams do creep
Sweet nothings of a world without a sun.

As I speak these words to you there's some people in a queue
Standing waiting for to speak before the king.
But the king just won't reply, and when they question why,
They're beaten and they're badgered till they sing.

But it's all stuff and nonsense, and their tunes won't sell for tenpence,
And it's all exactly what he'd like--indeed!
He can say to any man, just as quickly as you can,
'I'm Jesus as a statesman: here's my needs.'�

And my narrative ends here, hold it in your heart so dear
For if you sniff the meanings out right fast
There is nothing you can fear, be it far or be it near
Let it lead you to a sumptuous repast.

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