The Universal Protest Singer

He's two-foot-three, he's eight-foot-one, he's sixteen feet
He's hairy and as scary as can be
He wears sunglasses in the middle of the night
His clothes are denim to a PVC

He thinks he's gonna make a pile by singing of the bomb
And rhymin' things with Alabama too
He's Bob, he's Barry, Arnold and occasionally Don
God help us if his prophecies are true

Even if we do explode and end up on a cloud
I'm sure we'll see him up there with us all
Protesting that the harp amplification is too loud
And writing down with Moses on the wall

He's the Universal Protest Singer and he's just begun
To realise he's quite a wealthy bloke
And so he wants to rake it in and spend it while he's young
Just in case we do go up in smoke

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