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ode to the guy read about in the news |
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born by mistake he was born to lose |
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never had much luck |
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with the pounds and the pence |
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blamed everybody else |
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he said he never had a chance |
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ship on the waves hole in my side |
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one foot in the grave and it's just my size |
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21st century crime in the city |
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and you're looking guilty as hell |
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although you didn't do it |
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you know you can't prove it |
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now maybe its time to excel |
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i'm alright jack got my hand on my stack |
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and defences to make you think twice |
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all the gold in my walls are in hideaway halls |
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to cancel the chance of reprise |
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you're king and your queens |
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and their widow machine |
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are taking the share of your sons |
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then a note through the post |
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and the smell of a ghost |
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and apologise to everyone |
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their courageous attempt is all money well spent |
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but their gravestones they don't grow on trees |
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second hand ones come cheap |
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door to door while you sleep |
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but with no money back guarantees |
