(M. King)

My Uncle Ernie had a wongleberry
It used to live along the side of his nose
On the whole, it made a very good show
You know, I like being in the music biz
But it's not all fun
Hey, sometimes it's getting really hard
It's not all fun
So here's a tune that says...

It's no wonder I'm so mad
When I see the chances that I had
Blown away by business-suit big boys
Nine-to-fivers making all the noise
Making sure that no-one has the choice
I could tell them, "Go to Hell"
Start a new sound here for some clean air
Open up a door for those who care

Churning out the crap, just like that
Any old riff; give me a spliff
Then you'll clear the business
I could wear a hat, just like that
Send me down the steps; send me down the stair
Look away, they say...
[voices: "I love the guy...really!"]

Maybe it's conspiracy
Put together by gardeners who seed
They don't wear blue jeans - their crops are crap
Oh!

It's too late
I'm too late
I could never be
What they want me to be

Churning out the crap, just like that
Any old riff; give me a spliff
Then you'll clear the business
I could wear a hat, just like that
Send me down the steps; send me down the stair
Look away, they say...

Too late
I'm too late