We are guilty
We are beyond hope
We beg to differ
We are a terminal case

Press darlings
Press darlings
Press darlings
Press darlings
Press darlings
We depress the press, darlings

We're on the outside
But we're not looking in
We are the Vaseline gang
We don't play your little games

Press darlings
Press darlings
Press darlings
Press darlings
Press darlings
We depress the press, darlings

And if evil be the food of genius
There aren't many demons around
If passion ends in fashion
Nick Kent is the best-dressed man in town
Are we different? (No)
We are exactly the same
There are no boxes for us
The ones you love to hate, so read on

Press darlings
Press darlings
Press darlings
Press darlings
Press darlings
We depress the press, darlings

And if evil be the food of genius
There aren't many demons around
If passion ends in fashion
Bushell is the best-dressed man in town
(You can say that again, you scruffy sod)

Press darlings
Press darlings
Press darlings
Press darlings
Press darlings
We depress the press, darlings

Press darlings
Press darlings
Press darlings
Press darlings
Press darlings
We depress the press, darlings
We are the press darlings
The press darlings
The press darlings
The press darlings
The press darlings
The press darlings
The press darlings
The press darlings
The press darlings
The press darlings
The press darlings
The press darlings
Press darlings
Press darlings
Press darlings

Ooh

And they tell fibs