THE NEW YORK TIMES

OUR BUSINESS IS SELLING PAPERS,
THE LURID HEADLINE MAKES ME BLUSH.
COMPROMISE, A CIRCULATION THING,
THE ADRENALIN, OUR DEADLINE RUSH.
INK THE BLOOD OF OUR MASTHEAD,
FLOWS WITH LIFE, FROM. PAGE TO PAGE.
WE DO OUR BEST TO GET IT RIGHT,
THERE'S SOME ACTING ON EVERY STAGE.
COMPLEMENTING, THE JUICE. SO WE SAY.
UN BON MOT, FOR THE SHOPKEEPER'S GIFT.
NEWS IS LIKE PANNING FOR GOLD,
THE ULTIMATE STORY CATCHES THEIR DRIFT.
JOHN, ON THE CORNER, GIVING US RACK,
GOOD WORDS CANNOT MEASURE HIS WORTH.
ALL THE NEWS, THAT'S FIT TO PRINT,
YOUR GROUND, OUR EDITOR'S EARTH.

WAYNE MANNION
PLATINUM BULLET LYRICS