Murder

[Verse 1]
Oh, they say that he is crazy as he walks down the street
To the place where the darkness makes your heart skip a beat
But he's walkin' a little bit slower than all of his friends
Perhaps he knows more than he pretends
But it's hard to argue with a parasite fool
'Cause he uses his memory instead of his tools
And the game that he's playin' it's got its own set of rules
And he's gettin' away with murder

[Verse 2]
Well, there's bats in the bеlfry, I am proud to report
Where thе clergy vacation at their Midtown resorts
But they keep 'em out of sight by changin' their tune
And they are dyin' of fright just a little too soon
And there never is a word about those faraway lands
Where another kind of hourglass has run out of sand
And the ten-cent survivors, well, they've got holes in their hands
And they put 'em on trial for murder

[Verse 3]
Well, there's no sense in arguin', it is very plain to see
About the comparative worthlessness of the college degree
When you pay for your smiles with your green stamp books
And land jobs according to how your bottom half looks
Yet along comes this man with his limerick jokes
And dissertations of grandeur on the tobacco he smokes
And his conscience is wrapped up in Edgar Allan Poe
And other tales of murder

[Verse 4]
But I'm tryin' to be fair to all that is involved
At least until the other half of this mystery is solved
When the pedestal is moved and the balance is lost
And the failures and the mistrials, they all add to the cost
And they got a new rule book that always says no
To the kids who want to stay up for the late late show
But they keep 'em readin' comic books 'cause they never show
The true color of murder

[Verse 5]
So let's all say a prayer for organized crime
As the patron saint of the commerce of havin' a good time
We'll send someone out to investigate the dirt
Though the last one he came back just a little bit hurt
And they found him on the beach with his head in the sand
And you know he wasn't out there just to dig some clams
And though the suicide note was in his own hand
Ah, to me it smells like murder

[Verse 6]
Well, they run you through the changes 'til you run out of breath
By feedin' you cigarettes and gasoline and other forms of death
And then they force you into buyin' all their worthless machines
That can do everything better except for cleanin' the latrines
But depression ain't the worry of most of these folks
They're worried about their worth as the butt of these jokes
And losin' their jobs permanently as a part of the hoax
And forcin' 'em to resort to murder

[Verse 7]
Well, Franklin and Fulton and Alexander Graham Bell
Along with Einstein can all just go to hell
'Cause you can't ask the computers to feed you a meal
And you can't turn on the TV set to see how you feel
And the man who invented that horrible bomb
Is probably as American as George Washington's mom
And Uncle Sam's changed his name to Uncle Tom
To avoid the rap for murder