The man is back, it's twelve o'clock,
The music's on and it's time to rock.
Yeah man it's "Rage Against The Machine".
Breaking through in the middle of a dream.

Don't mind the time mate, just pump that bass.
We've got the man Timmy C on the case.
Not the whole album mind, he's broken the flow.
Just as I've got my head down on the pillow.

Time to let "Ed Alleyne-Johnson" have a go.
With his "Purple Electric Violin Concerto".
He's looping around and skipping tracks,
Keeps me awake like Scooby Snacks.

I was up late enough, but now this is just crazy.
I'd get up and knock on his door, if I wasn't so lazy.
It's Monday night. It just shouldn't be allowed.
Like I love the music, but not so late, not so loud.

So I lie there in silence till he retires to bed.
But I've still got music playing inside my head.
So it's some time yet before I'm fully asleep.
I'm trying really hard, but I've run out of sheep.

All forgotten as I'm rushing around next morning.
Despite a senseless daze and endless yawning.
I'll let him off without a saying a word this time.
Because some day, the music might be mine.