It's a dirty job (snicker). . . .

While you're sound asleep in the wee hours of Sunday morning, your humble Working Boy is slaving over a hot turntable, listening to the grooviest sounds of '68 . . . all for the sake of a little thing we call 3 Chords & the Truth.

I am but your meek servant, toiling away in the middle of the night.

Or, as The American Breed might say:

Yeah, bend me, shape me
Anyway you want me
Long as you love me
It's all right
Bend me, shape me
Anyway you want me
You got the power
To turn on the light