I don't want to go back anymore. I don't wanna go to work in the rain. No more toast grilled on the heater. No more of that A&R girl. And having to meet her. My personage It writes everywhere [in race anywhere] You Pep! And I stick my Parker pen under my ear Beneath my own carefully scruffed hair. What I wear Have to check out of Moody's lair Hang on Hang on, leaves your bad house with me Into the room of the bass player. Why won't you go up stairs? You Pep! Don't think he's don't get in slippy North-old-hamptonshire. I believe there's a new drug out. It's called speed I wrote a song about it Conceptually a la Bowie. But it's been lost in the vaults of the record company By our manager So instead our new 45 is 'Girlies' [Eckides] on, brown tonguer Yours, brattingly. Everyone says "please" Anyway is a waste of life Wait to say it in Lancashire You Pep! You had the best summer And now it's wearing off. No more excuses For your traitorism.