Some of us artists are sorry,
So very sorry
Some of us artists are truly sorry,
So truly sorry
Some of us artists are sorry,
So very sorry
(Sorry)
Some of us artists are truly sorry,
So truly sorry
(Sorry, sorry, sorry)
We need to apologize
For being so powerful,
For being so inspirational,
Or for being so fatuous
So sorry!
We've inspired an epidemic
Of farmers tipping their pitchforks
To rock them like Jimi Hendrix
And windmill like Pete Townshend
It's caused a catastrophe:
An ongoing drastic increase
In agricultural workplace injuries
To phalanges, arms, and privies
But the heartland lies bleeding
There's been a massive reduction
In the production of First Aid kits
Former assemblers bang street buckets
And no one bandages bodies
That have no hospitals anyway
Given nurses grew tired and inspired
From us calling them rats, bees, & slaves
Sorry, so sorry
You work the one gig
We work the other gig
Sorry, so sorry
For distorting that distinction
Distantly beyond this
Sorry, so sorry
For distorting other things
'til you're transformed or pissed
Too many folks have changed
Because of our reckless invective
Now millions do nothing more
Except publishing on the internet
Please return to your 9-to-5's
Given death from the dearth of
Food and medicine, housing & transportation,
Textiles, appliances, production, and innovation
Our callousness & pretentiousness
Can't start motors, raise grain stalks,
Stitch a sneaker, boil a beaker,
Synthesize compounds, truck goods around
Sorry, so sorry
You work the day shift
We work the night shift
Sorry, so sorry
For distorting that distinction
Distantly beyond this
Sometimes our shifts are concurrent,
Both making dimes in our difference
Sometimes we all work graveyards
In skins that don't ever seem to fit
We each suffer cemetery summers
Without days for respite or exit
Sorry, so sorry
For acting like a village
Overloaded with idiots
We owe you a lot more credit
Many of you have the decency
To retire at 65 or before
Once your careers are over
You don't con your colleagues,
Your neighbors, family or friends
Into buying tickets for some
Middle Management Reunion Tour
No smashing the smash hits like
"Total Insurance" or "Honest Accounting"
To bob like broken ocean buoys
At another concert of poached eggs
No former rockers hardly rocking
As they abandon their dignity
In cocoons of cognitive dissonance
And the commons of public decency
Sorry, so sorry
You work your shifts
We work our shifts
Sorry, so sorry
For distorting that distinction
Distantly beyond this
Sorry, so sorry
For butchering that binary
Like numbskulls and nitwits
We implore you to return to how
You generated discretionary income
So you can finance our delusion
And delivery of didactic dictums
We also encourage you to notice
How groups will extend choruses
(Hey Judge)
Until Gandhi would grant you permission
(Excuse me)
To raise your hand and smack them
(Hurry the hell up, Harry!)
Blah [x blah]
(To raise your hand and smack them!)