The clock ticked ahead shyly for eternity
And I feel a new prickle under my arms.
Daddy, I need a mic for my sweet sixteen!
I wanna sing to all my friends about Tony.
Tony is pink and hairy and jumps on troubles
Like they were three mice stealing from me
As if I were a Nazi dairy running very dry,
Forever after Peter and Michael, before him.
Oh, Daddy, Tony is sick and I need a mic
To tell my friends if he'll make it through.
I need them to sing back that it'll be okay,
That he'll pull through like Peter and Michael.
All my friends sing into mics and I can't.
Why don't I have a mic when I have Tony?
You promised me a mic this warm winter
To play with Peter and Michael, and Tony.
Hurry up, Daddy, Tony is almost blue now
All the pink has rubbed onto the three mice
Who are dancing like the poor in December,
Drinking my milk, eating my Camembert.
Oh Daddy, what have you done?
Tony has left - grown wings and flown away
Unlike Peter and Michael, before him
Who continue to run like headless mice.
No I don't want Peter and Michael
They are dirty now, like the Camembert.
I want a mic, damnit; gimme a mic
I wanna sing my troubles to the world.
Screw you, Daddy, I don't want your mic.
I can shout and scream to my good people.
I am sure they can hear me without a mic.
Lemme sing why you won't give me a mic.
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