(Streets are burnt-out shells and insurance jobs)
(Temporary spell and hell in a drop)
(Drops of hell like some divine comedy)
(It won't sell and that's the tragedy)

(I know my way home, I can get there alone)
(The day I need you they can feed me to the lions)
(You can stop trying to get it started)
(Its heart is gone, it's shot for the last time)

(It's past time, it's meantime)
(It's all over in between time)
(It's like Halloween time)
They don't owe me anything

Now I'm on the line, now I've lost my touch
They don't touch anything
Every passing hour all becomes too much
I don't owe you anything

(There's a weaker echo in the other speaker)
(A weaker echo of my own voice)
(Reduced mechanically and electronically)
(Symphony of frequency delivering a slithering sound)

(A pound of flesh caught in the mesh)
(A pressure, a special deluxe digest it)
(You guessed it, I missed it)
I don't owe you anything

Now I've lost my power, now I'm out of touch
They don't touch anything
Every passing hour all becomes too much
I don't owe you anything

Now I've lost my power, now I'm out of...
(Should you, would you, could you, good)
(Could you look good back on the street)
(Your feet get cold, isn't it too old)

(I've been told you should have sold your soul)
(It's not worth anything out here)
(Not worth the earth you're standing on)
(Earth, Mother Earth)

(Earth, sweet Mother Earth, what are you worth?)
They don't owe me anything
Now I'm on the line, now I've lost my touch
They don't touch anything

Every passing hour all becomes too much
I don't owe you anything
Now I've lost my power, now I'm out of touch
I don't owe you anything...

(What'd he say, his name's Ray)
(He wasn't dominating, woman-hating)
(Sensitive guy, one two three)
(That's how he is, he is and ought to be)

(Everything is cool till you buck your need)
(To sheet if you want to eat, and breathe the air)
(While you knock somebody off their feet)
(Not there, if you want to beware)

(It's not really fair, it a way of sayin' tough stuff)
(It's tough to get enough and you laugh and laugh)
(You can't get the staff, hold on to the laugh)
(It's my craft, it's finished, it's kaput, it's over)

(Finito, Benito, dead, Fred)
(Gone, Frisson, like old Hong Kong)
(Gone, Frisson)

Writer : WILSON-PIPER/HUNT/KILBEY
Copyright : Lyrics © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, Universal Music Publishing Group