Nine times fined. Never mind. Things can only improve. We are just stood here. Waiting for the next great wound. And we just can't wait. To make more mistakes. And to fluff our breaks. And to stuff our faces with cake. All in all imagine this. Nobody loves us. Dab-hands at Trouble. With four days of stubble we are. Never loosen the grip on our hand. Call us home. Kiss our cheeks. Nobody loves us. So we oh we tend to please ourselves. People think all we do. Is lie around and think of how. Rich we'd be if we didn't think. Life could improve. And we just can't wait. To make more mistakes. And we just can't wait till. The whole thing blows up in our face. Call us home. Kiss our cheeks. Nobody loves us. Dab-hands at Trouble. With four days of stubble we are. So never loosen the grip on our hand. Call us home. Make our tea. Nobody loves us. So we. oh we tend to please ourselves. Call us home. Tuck us in. Nobody wants us. Dreamers and schemers. All pie-eyed and bog-eyed and cross-eyed. Oh never loosen the grip on our hand. Whack us then. Hug us hard. Nobody loves us. So we oh we tend to please ourselves. And we just can't stress. Oh how more the mess. And complete distress. Won't make much difference to us. Sing us our. Favourite song. Nobody loves us. Born-again athiests. Practising troublemakers. Make us our. Favourite jam. Nobody loves us. Useless and shiftless. And jobless. But we're all yours