Текст песни
Who hawks the headlines
Who sets the style
Behind the deadlines
Behind the smile
He's the man digging dirt
Trying to keep himself clean
He's the pimp he's the prostitute
Mr. Magazine
Where someone suffers
He's always there
To make it rougher
To foul the air
He's perfected the art
Of the vicious and mean
Just a day at the office
Oh Mr. Magazine
Conscience has he any
Ideals no not many
Only what a penny buys
Remorse he can't feel it
His source won't reveal it
Of course it's the public's
Right to buy it
I'll keep on praying
That he'll come after me
I hear them saying
You've gone away
And we won't shed a tear
As you're leaving the scene
It's a pleasure not knowing you
Mr. Magazine
Mr. Magazine
Mr. Magazine
Mr. Magazine
Mr. Magazine
Mr. Magazine
Mr. Magazine