[...and sometimes their tiny ashen legs swell into giant golden thumbs so that they may squash even themselves]

[Chorus]

Yeah, got 'em in the end, ain't got the guts try swallowing a friends

One of them skanked every shotter in the ends 'till he bounced out

Feels weird watching it again

Like a fly on the wall, plotting for revenge

Cold stomach sank to the bottom of the Thames

Shit, you'll never be anonymous again

Sorry, you'll never be anonymous again

A singular cripple in an unspoilt morning scratches a path to a silhouetted cross

Looks like a retard, better let him off

He found god skanking with the devil in the loft to a two-step tape pack

Spudding in the corner

The demons were downstairs eating

He got slapped with a yin-yang, bleaching the blindfold

Find something else to believe in

Ears still steaming

Never seen an insect bleeding, between the extremes bugged out still breathing

Nah, just mimicking a chainsaw ripping through the room or squashed to the ceiling

Trapped in a pint glass, peppercorn ball and chain

Pixelized face in the hall of fame

Ritualised dances around the collection of rusted inventions you call a brain

[Chorus]

Yeah, got 'em in the end, ain't got the guts try swallowing a friends

One of them skanked every shotter in the ends 'till he bounced out

Feels weird watching it again

Like a fly on the wall, plotting for revenge

Cold stomach sank to the bottom of the Thames

Shit, you'll never be anonymous again

Sorry, you'll never be anonymous again

What, you think I wanna see you grovel?

Day-tripping in the bits with the bluebottles

All chased by an ailment salesmen, screaming "Upgrade to the new model you fossils!"

Why not move with the times, luminous suits hang loose on the spine

End every sentence marooned in your mind with "Fuck 'em! The future is mine!"

Rise as the king of all things with a Singapore Sling

Solve every issue with a little more gin

And I'd just popped out when your killer crawled in with a smug squashed face to deliver your sting

Thanks!

Recline on a scorpion headrest, rise to a ripple of reluctant applause

As the voice of the people we love to ignore

And nothing says 'shush' like a punch to the jaw (Shush!)

Numb to the core

Spent a couple comfortable months in a morgue reheating

Them man are hungry for more

"Can we hear a few words from the smudge on the floor?"

Sure, he excelled in the strangest places, full-time job putting apes in cages

Flies on the payroll, leashed to a maypole

Muddy are the eyes of the great escapist...

(Con men don't change... They break... They shatter...

Explosions of matter in cold interstellar space...

Drift away in cosmic dust... Leave the empty body behind...

Hustlers of the world...

There is one mark you cannot beat...

The mark inside... The mark inside...)