Forgive me if I'm out of order
This new 'music' has no soul
It may be good for making money
Sadly that is not my goal

Integrity and honesty
Are words that you don't understand
But you're the best
It says so in the penny dreadful in your hand

I saw you in a magazine
They're calling you messiah
They must be living in a dream
They couldn't be more wrong

If we'd played this riff more punk
Then maybe we'd have had a million seller
But this piper's tune is not for sale
I'm glad to say I'm not that kind of fella
D.J.s, V.J.s, pimps and trollops
Never mind music, this is bollocks

I saw you in a magazine
They're calling you messiah
They must be living in a dream
They couldn't be more wrong
Turn on, tune up, cash in, sell out
Turn on, tune up, cash in, sell out

Stand your ground behind the times
And refuse to follow fashion
Write your poetry with anger
And then sing it with a passion

Painted faces in a circus
Images that spring to mind
When I read my penny dreadful
Filled with pictures of your kind

I saw you in a magazine
They're calling you messiah
They must be living in a dream
They couldn't be more wrong

Commercial suicide's appealing after
Ten years on this losing streak
'Cause I'd rather be called sour and bitter
Than be deemed the flavour of the week
Of the week, of the week
Weak of the week

I saw you in a magazine
They're calling you messiah
They must be living in a dream
They couldn't be more wrong
Extra, extra, read all about it!

I saw you in a magazine
They're calling you messiah
They must be living in a dream
They couldn't be more wrong