| I think I ought to go to bed
|
| It’s getting dark inside my head
|
| I’ve been working now, all night long
|
| Trying to find that impossible song
|
| I think I ought to go to bed, and call it a day
|
| I’ve got my poet’s license
|
| So, I’m sending you this poesy;
|
| But, don’t expect no string quartet
|
| Or anything so cosy
|
| I’m so tired
|
| Think I ought to go to bed;
|
| I’m so tired
|
| I’m losing contact with my head;
|
| I’m so tired
|
| I’ve been working now, all night long
|
| Trying to chase that impossible song
|
| I think I ought to go to bed, and call it a day
|
| I’ve got my poet’s license
|
| So, I’m sending you this poesy;
|
| But, don’t expect no string quartet
|
| Or anything so cosy
|
| I’m so tired
|
| Think I ought to go to bed;
|
| I’m so tired
|
| I’m losing contact with my head;
|
| I’m so tired
|
| I’ve been up here all night long
|
| Trying to find that impossible song
|
| I think I ought to go to bed, and call it a day |