[instrumental intro]

Can't – sing – this – song

We don't sing this song too great
None of the notes we're hittin'
From our faces emanates
Some awful sounds; they're vile

Don't sing great and I never will
I just yell; I sing real loud
But still people buy this swill
And that pays our bills; though we're foul
We sound like Hell; it's true
We're off-key and can't keep pace (that's sad)
I'm tone-deaf; got a tin ear (eh?)
Talent? We don't have a trace
But we've got real nice smiles

My voice is raspy, sounds like a drill
But I hammer on anyway
I just get up and I dance all around
On the stage

We really smell, P.U.
Even if we concentrate (yeah, that)
Our harmony; it's stinking (bleah!)
With the awful sounds we make
It might make you start drinking
I will make this rather plain
The way we sing; it bites

Drinks will not drown out our awful sound
Like sick mutts down in the pound
Howling hounds; sickly sounds
And you'll frown, come unwound

We'll we won't sound better tomorrow
If you start now you might escape
But, no
You let your chance slip by
We will make your smile
Evaporate

Then in the studio
There's software to compensate
Yeah, man
You turn the dial and it sounds great
You orchestrate
Yeah, we will not sound second-rate
I know you have misgivings
CD track will get mass-play
It will make us a pile

Tech engineers will improve our sound
My voice will be renowned
I won't sound like a hound
In the pound; I'll astound
Loud, wow, crowds
I'll thrill crowds
Righteous sound

Though
My voice you may now hate
'Cause
My voice appears to grate
Use
Software to compensate
End
Result; sure to elate (I can't wait)
D
J's all will give great praise (all day it will be played)
Then
Our sales will escalate (that's what we calculate)
Fame
And fortune does await