| Everybody thinks my head’s full of nothing
|
| They wanna put their own special stuff in
|
| Fill up the space with candy wrappers
|
| Keep out sex and revolution
|
| But there’s no hole in my head
|
| Too bad
|
| They call me a dupe for this and the other
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| Call me a puppet on a string
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| They don’t know my head’s full of me
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| And that I have my own special thing
|
| And there’s no hole in my head
|
| Too bad
|
| I have lived since early childhood
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| Figuring out what’s going on
|
| I know what hurts, I know what’s easy
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| When to stand and when to run
|
| But there’s no hole in my head
|
| Too bad
|
| So please stop shouting in my ear
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| There’s something I wanna listen to
|
| There’s a kind of birdsong up there somewhere
|
| Feet walking when I wanna run
|
| And there’s no hole in my head
|
| Too bad
|
| Everybody thinks my head’s full of nothing
|
| Try to put their own special stuff in
|
| Fill up the space with candy wrappers
|
| Kill out sex and revolution
|
| But there’s no hole in my head
|
| Too bad
|
| No, there’s no hole in my head
|
| Too bad
|
| There’s no hole in my head
|
| Too bad |