It was a Tuesday
And it was bleak
Torn from the wreckage of a broken home
Only knows the love that he was shown
He barges into a café he owns
To bark marching orders at poor kitchen porters
Fresh from the microwave
A sandwich, thrown on a chipped plate
The kitchen is in a state
There’s no need for pruning when business is blooming
And his grandmother was a proud Filipino
Slips his mind as he dips his vote
Into the world of a well known racist
Who explains it all in words he knows
These fingers were made for pointing
These fingers were made for pointing
These fingers were made for pointing
These fingers were made for pointing
And enough is never enough
Enough is never enough
Enough is never enough
Enough is never enough
The busker boy’s chasing the dream
By the beggar with the card machine
And passing by the suit and, tie won’t cast an eye
Too fixated on a screen
And blessed are the meek, I’ve heard them say but honestly
There’s no romance in poverty when dinner is a novelty
These fingers were made for pointing
These fingers were made for pointing
These fingers were made for pointing
These fingers were made for pointing
And enough is never enough
Enough is never enough
No enough is never enough
Oh enough is never enough
Trudging Galway streets alone
I can’t help thinking, not to blame
Romantic Ireland’s dead and gone
It’s with O’ Leary on the plane
And everybody loves to b#tch
Factions speak louder than herds
When rags to riches turns wags to witches, oh
Fine feathers don’t make fine birds
These fingers were made for pointing
Find more lyrics at westlyrics.com
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