Letras: The Kinks. Mr. Reporter.

:
Hey, Mr. Reporter,
How 'bout talking about yourself?
Do you like what you're doing,
Or is it that you can do nothing else?

Hey, Mr. Reporter,
I'll believe all that you put down.
I'll believe the sun is going up,
Even though it's going down.

Hey, Mr. Reporter,
Don't you twist my words around.
I'll kill you, I won't let you,
Distort my simple sound.

Hey, Mr. Reporter,
How 'bout talking about yourself?
Do you like what you're doing,
Or is it that you can do nothing else?

Hey, Mr. Reporter,
How 'bout talking about yourself?
Do you like what you're doing,
Or is it that you can do nothing else?

Did your daddy stop you playing
With your friends when you were young?
And is that why you run down
All the young folks have their fun. [?]

The reason I am stupid,
Is because I read you every day.
You misquote all of the true things
Because they rub you the wrong way.

Hey, Mr. Reporter,
How 'bout talking about yourself?
Do you like what you're doing,
Or is it that you can do nothing else?