didn't give you something to be proud about

if you come up the hard way they remind you every day:

'you're nothing'

my words in your moth are mumbled all about

you're like a tabloid journalist

the way you cut and paste and twist: you're awful

go and tell it to your king, tell him everything

tell him you know how I feel tell him you know how I feel

at the palace gates when I'm all levered off my face

and I can work out what it's not about

and see snakes in eyes and a million danger signs



if you come late you shouldn't dare complain

and you won't like this at all

there's nothing to break your fall

and you know how I feel out of place

until I'm levered off my face....