Lyrics:

I'm in the furniture trade Got a new job today But stick the cretin On the number-three lathe Went down the town To a HM club The sign had a cross Through a couple well-dressed They looked at my coat They looked at my hair An Easy Rider coot Grabbed the edge of my coat Said: 'You're too smart for here' I said: 'I'll see the manager' He was the manager Eat y'self fitter Up the stairs mister Eat y'self fitter Analytics have got My type worked out Analytics on me The poison render I grope about And when I go out My mind splits My eyes doth hurt The musical chairs Have been swallowed up By a cuddly group Who land and rub off Hoping that Whatever it is Will land and drop off I met a hero of mine I shook his hand Got trapped in the door Felt a fool, I tell ya Charmed to meet ya Eat y'self fitter Up the stairs mister Eat y'self fitter Became a recluse And bought a computer Set it up in the home Elusive big one On the screen Saw the Holy Ghost, I swear On the screen Where's the cursor? Where's the eraser? Where's the cursor? Where's the eraser? G-O-H-O-H-O-9-O G-O-H-O-H-O-9-O G-O-H-O-H-O-9-O H-O-9-O-G-O-H-O What's a computer? Eat y'self fitter What's a computer? Eat y'self fitter The Kevin Ayers scene South of France Plush velvet Aback! Aback! Aback! Aback! Levis Fridays Greek holidays-ac