The old man is calling from up abovenSays he never found someone to lovenIf you let the heirarchy tax your sexnWhat do you think will happen nextnIt's a roadnIt's a roadnIt's for the roadsnnIt's a ride,nIt's a ride,nIt's for the restnnOoh, and how much can you smoke?nOoh, and they tax your cigarettesnOoh, and how will you get laid?nOoh, when your limp, when limpness gets your Masters paidnnPut your lips to my ear,nTurn your scream to a shoutnnPut your lips to my ear,nTurn your scream to a shoutnnYes I cannYes I cannYes I cannYes I cannYes I cannnYes I can can can can can can cannnYes I cannYes I cannYes I cannYes I cannYes I cannnIt's going to be a bright, bright sun shiny day