Rack

I must not do this thing
I’ll wreck my social life
They’ll disinfect my gender and
Claim some uncivil rights.
They’ll say “You son of a gun”
Old lovers pleading
“Why?”

I’ll say go and ask your friend the hack
He’s putting straight the record track
Here comes the sun
To black is black.
Ask him why he turns his back
On the innocents upon the rack.
Saves his sympathy for rats.

The doctor is a fool
He’s just a callous snob
He had fifteen years in a Jesuit school,
And now he’s not fit for any job
He just sneers and he drives a big car
Is this my saviour?
Oh tell, do tell.

Go and ask your friend the hack
He’s putting straight the record track
Lets spend the night
Here comes get back.

There’s nothing wrong with me
I am just wonderful,
I’ve got pop songs to keep me calm
And faithful friends like you.
So if you ever need a view
At my barbed wire rainbow,

Go and ask your friend the hack
He’s dancing to his record track
You’re paranoid,
You’re paranoid.

This is what we call a rack, moron,
This is what we call a rack.
You’re just a straight
And you asked for it
This is what we call a rack
This is what we call a rack.