Dear Sir
When your life is a valise
And you're packing only dirty shirts
And you compromise you mother's eyes
to tranquilize your trigger finger itch
Well I swear I'd rather clean the cages at the zoo,
than to change my songs for you
When you struggle for the lights
And the phone becomes your bedtime mate
And you find yourself with a bloody tongue
talking to the people that you hate
Well I swear I'd rather clean the cages at the zoo,
than to change my songs for you
than to change my songs for you
than to change my songs for you
I am nothing but some red ink or some black
I'm demotion or a second Cadillac
When you sell out all your rights
For a chance to be immortalized
And you duck your friends from Julliard
Oh my God how much more can you take
Well I swear I'd rather clean the cages at the zoo,
than to change my songs for you