So much to prove, so few to tell you why
Swinging stars, swinging stars
Those old die-hards in Denmark Street start laughing
So much to prove, so few to tell you why
Could you knock a line or two together for a friend?
Our season at Southend, can you help us?
I'm sick of tra-la-las and la-de-das
It seems to me a change is really, really needed
Sentimental tear inducing with a happy end
So much to prove, so few to tell you why
I'm sick of tra-la-las and la-de-das
From the tin pan alley twins
Those old die-hards in Denmark Street start laughing
And get their wives to sing it with me just like in the pubs
It's hard to write a song with bitter fingers
It's hard to write a song with bitter fingers
Those old die-hards in Denmark Street start laughing
It seems to me a change is really, really needed
And we'll still pat your backs
You know it's just another hit and run
'Cause we need what we can get to launch another dozen acts
And there's a chance that one day
So much to prove, so few to tell you why
No more long days hacking hunks of garbage
Bitter fingers never swung on swinging stars, swinging stars
It loosens up the muscles and forces you to sing
At the keyboard player's hollow haunted eyes
It's hard to write a song with bitter fingers
At the keyboard player's hollow haunted eyes
It seems to me a change is really, really needed
And we need a tune to open
No more long days hacking hunks of garbage
No more long days hacking hunks of garbage
At the keyboard player's hollow haunted eyes
You might write a standard lads, so churn them out quick and fast
Bitter fingers never swung on swinging stars, swinging stars
Are you working?
I'm sick of tra-la-las and la-de-das
When I worked the good old pubs in Stepney
It's hard to write a song with bitter fingers
Bitter fingers never swung on swinging stars, swinging stars
I like the warm blue flame, the hazy heat it brings
