Tekster:
Amp Fiddler

Everything you think is not the way it really is No truth babe, no trust If you think I'm running in the streets while you're gone I'll be there, it's

It's a funky Monday Not quite like Friday It's a funky Monday Wish it was Saturday It's a funky Monday Not quite like Friday It's a funky Monday Day after

Everything you think is not the way it really is Is no truth babe, no trust If you think I'm running in the streets while you're gone I'll be there,

well, i don't wanna be a soldier mama, i don't wanna die well, i don't wanna be a sailor mama, i don't wanna fly well, i don't wanna be a failure mama

Oh my love for the first time in my life My eyes are wide open Oh my lover for the first time in my life My eyes can see I see the wind, oh I see the

alone here And still waiting for you Oh, I really did fail for the first time Spoke the fiddler, poor old fiddler The fiddler on the green The fiddler

alone here And still waiting for you Oh I really did fail for the first time Spoke the fiddler, poor old fiddler The fiddler on the green The fiddler

: [Instrumental]

And I'll take every way out I can find But morphine, codeine, whisky, they won't alter The way I feel the way now death is not around So death take your fiddle