You don't care about people's thoughts. You probe into the mind, then you haunt
What you print, people believe, complicating lives, what the f** does that achieve?
Now you're looking for some news, changing around facts and views
Receiving money for empty lies. Sly reporters I despise you
Will there be that extra in this week? Now you're climbing to the journalist peak
Sitting at the typewriter making more lies up. Rearranged to suit you, then f** me up
Now I'm getting sick of you. Coming around here, making news
Whatever you print, you can't lose. But can't you see the damage that you do?