hard for a smell of the fart In an all out effort for maximum claim to fame Claim to shame, claim to the same Those wonderful people attracted to the toilets Hypnotised by an imaginary watch Fine looking corpse is found in the press Don't like the flavour but still drink the scotch And Kestrel lager Writes glamour reruns Of tangerines for Christmas In modern slang Shang-A-Lang the second well might bust a gut the guilt, the ego, the time limit brought about by age-old lies born from the dream of pale blue skies They bust a gut to find a face to wear But the big dilemma's always there too wired up, too scared of sweat the open pores that smell of death too paranoid of being taken for a ride we have become mean and I mean to decide before too long but my ear's hear the big ones eerie song "between you and me and I'm serious there's an osprey's nest in our back garden I'm worried about it, worried stupid bout the eggs I think why our garden of all places? I wonder sometimes is it true? urban ospreys sound quite interesting but how can I put it into use?" another world might lust for crumbs but you spilt my pint, now buy me another I have the pressure of day-to-day living What on Earth can I say to my lover? The two of us we lust for crumbs OF care But the big dilemma's always