Dictum: vestige of the euro-bore
It's a good life bowing to a tyrant
Christian gang chants sweet
Keep your head down for the moment
(That now suit is now in bucket
It's a good life, Europe)
Avoid the dismantled old heads stuck in bloody plant pots
Forgetting the endless drive against nature
Must we base ourselves again into organic mud?
You're well welcome to it
Get out of my city you mediocre pseuds
And take those red-tie bastards
Who put up the Olympic flag with you
They walk around leering at young girls in packs
More than you can ever know
This hillbilly cab driver
He has submerged himself into the psyche of the average
They love me, they knock off 10 to 15 pence
Those casual days are over and dull
Agricultural gangs chant for sweet freedom
And take those red tight bastards with you
They should remember there's nothing worse
Than a half-educated grim red dwarf
(He's up there now, listening to us, I know he is)
Why do you leave a a poxy card?