Dear Sir

When your life is a valise
 And you're packing only dirty shirts
 And you compromise you mother's eyes
 to tranquilize your trigger finger itch
 Well I swear I'd rather clean the cages at the zoo,
 than to change my songs for you
 When you struggle for the lights
 And the phone becomes your bedtime mate
 And you find yourself with a bloody tongue
 talking to the people that you hate
 Well I swear I'd rather clean the cages at the zoo,
 than to change my songs for you
 than to change my songs for you
 than to change my songs for you
 I am nothing but some red ink or some black
 I'm demotion or a second Cadillac
 When you sell out all your rights
 For a chance to be immortalized
 And you duck your friends from Julliard
 Oh my God how much more can you take
 Well I swear I'd rather clean the cages at the zoo,
 than to change my songs for you