Lyrics:

Outside Goldsmith's coughing up blood,
Turner Prize judge gasps 'Christ that's good -
Leave it as it is, it'll get first place
We'll call it a full shift at the coal face'
Oh well you're neither a Stuckist or a YBA
And you're no longer a miner as of today

Praise for the wardens ready to fine
Anyone caught saying 'graphic design'
Rag-mag seller said I'd be in pleats
Only when he'd been cleaned from the streets
Oh I could squeeze my lemon till my blues went away
If I had possession over Pancake Day

Give a philosophy student a glass of limeade
And he will say: 'is this a glass of limeade?'
And 'if so, why is it a glass of limeade?'
And, after a while, he'll die of thirst