No Mercy For The Muse

Shabby boys kept you up all night.
Oh, sentimental drinkers
Sing songs that end in fights about fights.
And they'll swear to you
That they just can't help it.
No, that poem in their head,
That painting of your bed, it must out.
Does time stand still
When you cross the room?
Oh, surely it must do
When they write a song
That goes on and on about you.
Does your golden hair fall in waves?
No mention of a spot,
Tantrum, or tooth rot; not for them.
Just pearly smiles and Mona Lisa wiles
For your coterie of stars,
Your barrel of charlatans.
Celebrate, and they will venerate,
Hold their heads in the morning glare.
For with some faint praise,
They will hold your gaze
And dedicate it all to you.
Yeah, dedicate it all to you.
Oh, you live your life in black and white:
No subtlety for you; no mercy for the muse,
It's true.
Come in again, number 10.
Oh, your army of typewriters,
Your consequence of biters won't last long.
And life will burden you not.
Love will carry on with a thrust.
And they'll swear to you
That they just can't help it.
That poem in their head,
That painting of your bed
It must out.
It must out.
Celebrate, and they will venerate,
Hold their heads in the morning glare.
For with some faint praise,
They will hold your gaze
And dedicate it all to you.
Yeah, dedicate it all to you.
Yeah, dedicate it all to you.