Let it sing, let it cry
And roll out the carpets
No such thing, you mustn't pry
All hail to another confession
And it's losing me

Where have all the merrymakers gone?
Where have all the merrymakers gone?

Some people will surprise you with a real depth of feeling
And others still may shock, shock, shock you with all that they're revealing
But one thing's sure: there's always more information than you ask for
Ask for this

Just enough knowledge to know I don't know anything
Anything, anything
I don't know
Nobody likes what I like
That's how I like it
Some things are personal, at least they should be
Or is it too much, much to ask you just to maintain a little
Maintain a little
Maintain a little
Maintain a little
Maintain a little
Maintain a little
Take the cynical saint to the stake and you burn it
It's radio, it's radio silence, silence
It's radio, it's radio silence, silence
It's radio, it's radio, radio silence
It's radio, it's radio, radio silence
It's radio, it's radio, radio silence
It's radio, it's radio, radio silence