Matt Berry
The Innkeeper’s Song
I'm feeling bad
Lord, oh let me die
Must be the season
How my belfry's fried
I'm just an innkeeper
I sing you my song
The words don't scan
The melody's wrong, yeah

Before 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
And I'm here, no hope at all
With no way to make the bread
Shit, I may as well be dead
Dead

Before 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
And I'm here, no hope at all
With no way to make the bread
Shit, I may as well be dead
Dead
Yeah