I was driving through the night
Into an endless tunnel of fog
When it dawned on me something was wrong
I was in a trance, hypnotized
I was listening to the same old song
I know every lick, every word
I'm on first name terms with the crew
But I'd better get used to this poop du jour
Sure as hell they won't play anything new
Oh my dear it's time for bed
The pirates took to water, stole the charts
But sadly that didn't go down well with those upstairs
The establishment considered
That the uncontrolled appreciation of music
As Cash 'n' Everett on the high seas
Looked like they'd get blown out of the water
They did of course eventually come ashore
As meek as mice or to be more accurate
As lambs to the slaughter
Oh Fanny, I love you dearly
Something else I should mention?
I don't even want to start
I want to take a look at Classic Rock Radio
We're talking about the state of the art
The night that Frank Zappa caught on fire
Could you tell us all about it
Keep it short and use my version
Or everyone out there'll think I'm a liar
We can speak about Bananas for one second
Just because I understand
You have to get them off your chest
But in the meantime while your talking
Could you do some more of these here ID's
And then this station might maintain some interest
Is there something that I missed?
WRITERS
Don Airey, Ian Gillan, Ian Anderson Paice, Roger David Glover, Steven J. Morse