| When it’s pop goes the weasel, let go of the easel
|
| You don’t want this rickety rackety life
|
| It’s seat of the trousers, it’s all sink or swim, son
|
| I’d kill to get crimson on this palette knife
|
| And I’d steal in a minute, I’m up to here in it
|
| You here behaving as though I’m a saint
|
| Get a job with a pension, don’t ever mention
|
| You once had a craving for the brushes and paint
|
| So go, forget it, let it all go, let it all go
|
| Go, forget it, let it all go
|
| Go, forget it, let it all go, let it all go
|
| Go, forget it, let it all go, let it all go
|
| A hack writer judges my swipes and my smudges
|
| He doesn’t like pictures with blotches and blots
|
| The drawing room tea set wants horses, sunsets
|
| Sweet nothings, the seaside with yachts
|
| Here’s the end of the thirties, no time for arties
|
| Over in Poland, a right old to-do
|
| So go join the navy, the air force or the army
|
| They’ll all be enrolling young fellows like you
|
| So go, forget it, let it all go, let it all go
|
| Go, forget it, let it all go
|
| Go, forget it, let it all go, let it all go
|
| Go, forget it, let it all go, let it all go
|
| These are not my decisions, flaming visions
|
| Ringing expressions, the clamoring voice
|
| It’s volcanic desire, unquenchable fire
|
| It isn’t a question of having a choice
|
| Anyway, now I’m old but if you won’t be told
|
| You’ve been created to answer the call
|
| All passion and lust is gonna end in the dust
|
| But you’ll hang on some government gallery wall
|
| You must go, forget it, let it all go, let it all go
|
| Go, forget it, let it all go
|
| Go, forget it, let it all go, let it all go
|
| Go, forget it, let it all go, let it all go |