The Young Reporter - Nits

«Hands up!», he said

«If you move a little bit you’re dead»

I want the secret that you were about to get

Tonight they win

I’m in a cellar and I have to stay in

I’ll have to write a song

Whether it’s right or wrong

Here comes the young reporter

In his overcoat

I’m on the tape recorder

In his motorboat

Is he coming in time for me

Click clack — turn the key

They came back to transport me

I’ll get used to music mystery

Black car, dark street

Red light, high speed

Rope is tied around my hands and feet

Here comes the young reporter

In his overcoat

I’m on the tape recorder

In his motorboat

Is he coming in time for me

Too late, it’s done

I’m on a record and I’ll have to stay on

It’s on the playlist with a little luck it’s number one

This is the story about a writer of songs

You see the smoke is coming out of his lungs

He’ll have to write a song whether it’s right or wrong

Hands up!

Hands up!

Hands up!

Hands up!