Stop eating all that chocolates
In fact, you're a half-wit from somewhere or other
Why don't you bog off back to Xanadu in Ireland
You hang around with camera crews in shell-suits
You liked your own sweets
You are bequeathed in suede
You are entrenched in suede
You've got celluloid in your genes dad
You've cut my income by one third
You are working on a video project
And never put your hand in your pocket
You're paging the [...] in Spain
You can't read between the lines
You're one of the best songs I've ever heard by Steven King
You Clearasil produces Richtofeon rashes
Sideboard like on mountains
Clearasil is in conjunction
You post out sixty-page computer printouts
On the end of the forest [chorus?]
On the above will come back to you
And confirm you as a [down passion]