Mr Tinker

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Mr. Tinker was a tailor
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And he had a neon sign above his 
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door
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And he cooked his meals and he tried
 to sleep
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In a two room shack directly behind 
the store

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Above his dresser was a picture of 
his wife who passed awa-aa-ay
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And next to that there was a picture
 of the boy who couldn’t sta-aa-ay

Mr. Tinker was a jealous man
And he never smiled to the people 
who came to the store
And he envied them for the lifes 
they lived and the fun they had
And the colorful things they wore

It isn’t easy for a tailor when 
there’s nothing left to sew
He wishes he could mend his life but
 then there’s no one left to show

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Pa-pa-pa-para-pa-pa-pa, poor Mr. 
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Tinker
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Pa-pa-pa-para-pa-pa-pa, poor Mr. 
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Tailor

Mr. Tinker was a tailor
And the tailor has a well respected 
trade
But who needs Mr. Tinker
When all the suits you buy are 
already made