| Every song’s been sung before |
| Every note’s been played |
| Every chord’s been strung before |
| And every melody’s been made |
| They heard it all by now |
| Nothing left to be inspired by |
| It all seems so unreal somehow |
| As I sit back I close my eyes |
| I just think of what I like |
| Any blend will do |
| They reproduced what’s in my mind |
| But it feels like something new |
| Pink beatles in a purple zeppelin |
| Same old sound, different song |
| (And the song remains the same) |
| Pink beatles in a purple zeppelin |
| Sounds so right, feels so wrong |
| Every tune’s been hung before |
| Every album’s been produced |
| Every rhyme’s been applied before |
| And every music style has fused |
| I just think of what I like |
| Any blend will do |
| They reproduced what’s in my mind |
| But it feels like something new |
| Pink beatles in a purple zeppelin |
| Same old sound, different song |
| (And the song remains the same) |
| Pink beatles in a purple zeppelin |
| Sounds so right, feels so wrong |
| Pink beatles in a purple zeppelin |
| Same old sound, different song |
| Pink beatles in a purple zeppelin |
| Sounds so right, feels so wrong |