Lyrics

Sing, singer (sing, singer), weave me a tapestry Sing, singer (sing, singer), no belly-aching Just show me that instrument, do what you were born to do Get the show on, get off stage, and go home I can't stand you talking to me I don't want you standing on my corner no more Transport me to a different planet Get the show on, get off stage, and go home You're only getting paid to do one thing Every second that you waste is money lost No one cares what you sing as long as you sing Every minute's coming out of your paycheck Sing, singеr (sing, singer), weave mе a tapestry Sing, singer (sing, singer), no belly-aching Just show me that instrument, do what you were born to do Get the show on, get off stage, and go home This ain't no time for subtlety Cast away your self-control and self-respect Beat me over the head with the chorus Get the show on, get off stage, and go home Your father told me you're a comedian Well, I came up with something you can use in your skits But when you're up there, don't forget about Uncle Rick If you get on TV, shout me out No bonus in the gig economy No paid time off with overtime You call yourself a freelancer I thought this was free Got tens of eyes waiting for you Don't you know who you're talking to? Can I speak to your manager? What do you mean she's dead? Sing, singer (sing, singer), weave me a tapestry Sing, singer (sing, singer), no belly-aching Just show me that instrument, do what you were born to do Get the show on, get off stage, and go home You're only getting paid to do one thing Every second that you waste is money lost No one cares what you sing as long as you sing Every minute's coming out of your paycheck Sing, singer (sing, singer), weave me a tapestry Sing, singer (sing, singer), no belly-aching Just show me that instrument, do what you were born to do Every minute's coming out of your paycheck