I'm sorry we're closed
We're all out of pizza
There's nothing in the oven
Nothing in the freezer
Nothing in my till
Nothing in my pockets
And come monday morning
There'll be nothing to deposit
I'm sorry we're closed
You're all out of luck
Got nothing for your newspaper
Nothing for your buck
Nothing here to buy
Nothing here to sell
You want a good story
I got nothing to tell
Say hey, where's your mardi gras song
Doctor john, iko ike
A man came with a gun and took it all away
I'm sorry we're closed
I'm all out of patience
Nothing I can do
Nothing but wait
For the cops to arrive
I hope they get here soon
A customer of mine
Just bought himself a head wound
I'm sorry we're closed
We're all out of work
There's nothing you can pay me
'cause nothing is worth
Risking my neck
For the nickels and dimes
Standing in the kitchen
I'm standing in the firing line sing hey...