The Innkeeper's Song

I'm feeling down, lord, oh let me die
Must be the season, man, my belfry's fried
I'm just an innkeeper, I sing you my song
The words don't scan, the melody's wrong
Thought things were bad, now they're just plain worse
Iscariot Hotels have pinched my purse
If he says "jump," you'd better ask "how high?"
He plays his pipe, he's such a real mean guy
How the hell can I compete?
Stock exchanges, balance sheets
All I feel is misery
I've no peace, no liberty
Now my back's against the wall
I don't see no hope at all
With no way to make the bread
Hell, I may as well be dead
I'm a candlestick maker and I'm out of wick
I'm the doctor in this town, got no pills for the sick
I'm the baker, I'm the maker of the rolls and bread
But if a cat ain't got no cash, he's as good as dead
(As dead, as dead, he's as good as dead
If a cat ain't got no cash, he's as good as dead)
I'm a butcher, but I can't get no meat
I'm a restaurant critic and there's nothing to eat
I'm a cab driver, baby, but I got no fare
I'm tailor, man, and my threads are bare
(They're bare, they're bare, our threads are bare
If things don't pick up then we're out of here)
I'm feeling down, lord, oh let me die...