Well, my downness is mountin’ and I’m starting to whine;
wish I could leaven my affect and make it shine.
There’s a planet in the heavens—though it’s bright at night
way up there; still it makes my mood leaden, not light.

Oy vey! Saturnine night,
glum, glum, one more saturnine night,
just saturnine night.

I am never dancing ’cause I suffer from anomie;
I’m abased and I’m no dynamo and mired in entropy.
It’s falling, never rising—my enthusiasm slides
as if opium smoked all night, with Quaaludes on the side.

Oy vey! Saturnine night,
sluggish, one more saturnine night,
glum saturnine night.

Turned off, get no kicks, a resident of house of blues,
I am ruled by Saturn’s action; that planet is my muse.
My life’s defined by “lazy,” “boring” is a watchword too.
Cranked up? The answer’s “no sir!” That sixth rock makes me snooze.

Joy? Nay! Saturnine night,
sluggish, one more saturnine night,
glum saturnine night.

That rock up in the heavens, it is the sign of my birth;
that’s why I don’t like to party and I am devoid of mirth.
I’m burdened by such sorrow. . .loquacious, no, but glum;
don’t like rock and roll music; out I’m always bummed.