He's got a flat cap and glasses and he knows where you live he says you've vandalized a phonebox even though you're thirty-six He knows where your Mum works and all your unclean desires he puffs on his pipe, nods knowingly
I am the lad who killed your son Kuwait 1991 he had no time to parry his hands were not loath and cold for me and my mate Barry if the truth be told we gave him no chance when he put up his hands