This is my 45th 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 you pack your tents   Shut down your show,"   Yes, we should like to see a burning bush-type sign   But anything would be fine   Oh, anything would be fine