Oh, the life of a hack.
You do the body's worth.
What would I do without you? You're my foil.
I see the boys of spring till summer
Turn up and intern and burn up in winter.
The rates of a slate.
You say it's sorry work.
What could I lift without it? It's so funny.
Some say that ten pence for a word
At best's not a dower but it's people per hour.
Oh, the rake's at the gates.
You say my folly's ripe.
What with my reason all rotted in meaning?
And I take it all dearly, drunk as a rule,
And I laugh with the lacks but I'll always be a hack.
All my friends, their lovers
Invoice, misquote their struggle
And we all paint by numbers
Oh, the canon, canon, canon, canon, canon, canon, canon, canon
Pretend we're all in trouble;
Us hacks.
Oh, the rates of a slate.
They say its sorry work,
I tell my Mum's friends I work in Hollywood.
They say it shows, all those T.V. dinners,
I want T.V. finished
The life of a hack,
We know that modern life isn't just rubbish
It's something less than colourful,
Children of the crash, children of the crash
We must hack, hack, hack.
Go ask your local bookseller where all their books have gone.
I've got a million pages on my floor.
I've got too many lines in this verse
Somebody get me a field recording of those ice caps melting,
Pukka teas just brought out a new range of
'Drink me and feel like somebody entirely different' teas
Spiral and warp, spiral and warp
(And again)
Spiral and warp, spiral and warp
There's a train leaving in five minutes mister, be under it.