Lyrics:

Sunday morning here we are.
The boy's come home
not quite the movie star.

He's been in Hollywood.
The boy's come home.
The boy's done good.

He says she asked too high a price
neglecting to declare
what sits between them there on ice,
chilled, with the fizzy and the still:
he tried bud didn't make it there.

'It's not for me
It's not for me'.

Sunday papers, here we are.
The boy's come home.
The boy's come home.