Lyrics:

Wading through the chaos to where the crones sit
It’s where my bones fit, where I’m comfortable
No-one can deny me my natural instincts:
They’re what I’m drawn to, where I waste my time

Rationalise your own revolution:
It can be easily compressed
Touch his skin, he feels like a man
Touch his skin, he feels like a man
Make light of greedy promoters:
They can be easily bypassed
Touch his skin, he feels like a man
Touch his skin, he feels like a man

That fly, that damned fly
Makes me sick, leaves me compromised
There must be a logic behind the madness
If it’s financial then it’s deeply flawed
Someone should remind them that in this business
Bad acoustics are an awful start

Rationalise your own revolution:
It can be easily compressed
Touch his skin, he feels like a man
Touch his skin, he feels like a man
Make light of greedy promoters:
They can be easily bypassed
Touch his skin, he feels like a man
Touch his skin, he feels like a man

That fly, that damned fly
Makes me sick, leaves me compromised

Rationalise your own revolution:
It can be easily compressed
Without the young and the desperate
They won’t have anyone left