Lyrics:

So this is where he came to hideWhen he ran from youIn a private detective's overcoatAnd dirty dead man's shoesThe pretty things of KnightsbridgeLying for a minister of stateIs a far cry from the nod and winkHere at traitor's gate'Cause the high heel he used to be has been ground downAnd he listens for the footsteps that would follow him aroundTo murder my love is a crimeBut will you still loveA man out of timeThere's a tuppeny hapenny millionaireLooking for a fourpenny oneWith a tight grip on the short hairsOf the public imaginationBut for his private wife and kids somehowReal life becomes a rumourDays of dutch courageJust three French letters and a German sense of humourHe's got a mind like a sewer and a heart like a fridgeHe stands to be insulted and he pays for the privilege(chorus)The biggest wheels of industryRetire sharp and shortAnd the after dinner overturesAre nothing but an after thoughtSomebody's creeping in the kitchenThere's a reputation to be madeWhose nerves are always on a knife's edgeWho's up late polishing the bladeLove is always scarpering or cowering or fawningYou drink yourself insensitive and hate yourself in the morning(chorus)