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