The Young Reporter

Lyrics

"Hands up!", he said "If you move a little bit you're dead" I want the secret that you were about to get Tonight they win I'm in a cellar and I have to stay in I'll have to write a song Whether it's right or wrong Here comes the young reporter In his overcoat I'm on the tape recorder In his motorboat Is he coming in time for me Click clack - turn the key They came back to transport me I'll get used to music mystery Black car, dark street Red light, high speed Rope is tied around my hands and feet Here comes the young reporter In his overcoat I'm on the tape recorder In his motorboat Is he coming in time for me Too late, it's done I'm on a record and I'll have to stay on It's on the playlist with a little luck it's number one This is the story about a writer of songs You see the smoke is coming out of his lungs He'll have to write a song whether it's right or wrong Hands up! Hands up! Hands up! Hands up!