I'm going on the circuit, I'm doing all the clubs    And I really need a song, boys, to stir those workers up    And get their wives to sing it with me, just like in the pubs    When I worked the good old pubs in Stepney       Oh, could you knock a line or two together for a friend    Sentimental tear inducing with a happy end    And we need a tune to open our season at Southend    Can you help us?       It's hard to write a song with bitter fingers    So much to prove, so few to tell you why    Those old diehards in Denmark Street start laughing    At the keyboard player's hollow haunted eyes    It seems to me a change is really needed    I'm sick of tra-la-las and la-de-das (la-de-das)    No more long days hacking hunks of garbage    Bitter fingers never swung on swinging stars, swinging stars       I like the warm blue flame, the hazy heat it brings    It loosens up the muscles and forces you to sing    You know it's just another hit and run    From the tin pan alley twins       And there's a chance that one day    You might write a standard lads    So churn them out quick and fast    And we'll still pat your backs    Cause we need what we can get    To launch another dozen acts, are you working?       It's hard to write a song with bitter fingers    So much to prove, so few to tell you why    Those old diehards in Denmark Street start laughing    At the keyboard player's hollow haunted eyes    It seems to me a change is really needed    I'm sick of tra-la-las and la-de-das (la-de-das)    No more long days hacking hunks of garbage    Bitter fingers never swung on swinging stars, swinging stars       (Repeat)       Swinging stars, swinging stars       It's hard to write a song with bitter fingers    So much to prove, so few to tell you why    Those old diehards in Denmark Street start laughing....