Cabaret Blues by John Goodblood Lyrics

It's been nine days and eight too many nights
Paint on my face and give me to the lights
Gone to the gutter to sell them some dreams
You hear his mutter cooking up a new scheme

"Kid, you're headed to the top
You could sing or grab a mop."
Monkey see, monkey do
I'd rather turn it around and play that monkey for you

Prostitute musicians
Pimps dressed up as politicians
You live in this pornography
Diploma in photography
But never through with paying your fee
Somebody asked just who am I supposed to be?

Ladies and Germs. May I present on stage this very night
A man who burns representing all you parasites
Ain't no syndicate, there ain't no trial
The rights I vindicate they seem so vile
In this gallery of fakes
You got no clue how much they make
Cockroach on my shoe
I'll climb on your head and be the one to step on you

I got hands like a magician
My pockets picked by your precision
A satellite Bureaucracy
A hipster aristocracy
Nobody ever said you were free
Somebody asked just who am I supposed to be?