In Chocolate Town all the trains are painted brown. On the silver paper of the wrapper. There's a dapper little man. And he wears a wax moustache. That he twists with nicotine fingers. As he drops his cigarette ash. And someone comes and sweeps it up. And then he doffs his cap. And there's a rat in someone's bedroom. And they're shutting someone's trap. And they'll soon be pulling down the little palaces. And the doors swing back and forward from the past into the present. And the bedside crucifixion turns from wood to phosphorescent.. And they're moving problem families from the South up to the North. Mother's crying over some soft soap opera divorce. And you say you didn't do it but you know you did of course. And they'll soon be pulling down the little palaces.. It's like shouting in a matchbox filled with plasterboard and hope. Like a picture of Prince William in the arms of John the Pope.. There's a world of good intentions and pity in their eyes. The sedated homes of England are theirs to vandalize.. So you knock the kids about a bit because they've got your name. And you knock the kids about a bit until they feel the same.. And they feel like knocking down the little palaces.. You're the twinkle in your daddy's eye a name you spray and scribble. You made the girls all turn their heads and in turn they made you miserable.. To be the heir apparent to the kingdom of the invisible.. So you knock the kids about a bit because they've got your name. And you knock the kids about a bit until they feel the same..