Not everyone in New York would pay to see Andrew Lloyd Webber. May his trousers fall down as he bows to the queen and the crown. I don't know what tune that the orchestra played. But it went by me sickly and sentimental

Can I have another piece of chocolate cake? Tammy Baker's got a lot on her plate. Can I buy another cheap Picasso fake? Andy Warhol must be laughing in his grave

The band of the night take you to ethereal heights over diner. And you wander the streets never reaching the heights that you seek. And the sugar that dripped from the violins' bow, made the children go crazy, put a hole in the tooth of a hag

Can I have another piece of chocolate cake? Tammy Baker has got a lot on her plate. Can I buy another cheap Picasso fake? Andy Warhol must be laughing in his grave

And the dogs are on the road, we're all tempting fate. Cars shooting by with no number plates. And here comes Mrs. Hairy Legs

I saw Elvis Presley walk out of a Seven Eleven. And a woman gave birth to a baby and then bowled 257. The excess of fat on your American bones. Will cushion the impact as you sink like a stone

Can I have another piece of chocolate cake? Tammy Baker has got a lot on her plate. Can I buy another cheap Picasso fake? Liberace must be laughing in his grave

Here come Mrs. Very late. Your diner’s on the table, but she’s got under the bed

(Don’t cry for me… Andrew Lloyd Webber. The truth is I never loved you. All you little Richards and you fancy bitches. I’m dreadful sorry, Andrew Lloyd Webber.)

Can I have another piece of chocolate cake? Tammy opens, spilling up my plate. Can I buy another piece of Castro pain? Andy Warhol must be laughing in his grave