| Silence breaking into metre at seven forty-five
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| A game of squash with a rubber cosh is a bit like being alive
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| Walking in and out of rooms I’ve made it my career
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| I’m with it, white, well to do, what’ve I got to fear
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| Dance routines with chicken queens give me square-bashed feet
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| I like my music military, I like my women neat
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| I like my arians well defined, I’d like to make that clear
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| I’m white, with it, well to do, what’ve I got to fear
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| Soap suds, soap operas, hard lines, makes babies sick
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| Why can’t life be run on the lines of an Edgar Lustgarden flick
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| An ideal home where raincoats appear and disappear
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| You think you’re in the pink, you say you’re in the clear
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| Missing persons passed me by, nothing to do with me
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| We don’t see eye to eye, we get from A to B
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| I’m not an ex-spick, wop or jew, no dago nigga queer
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| I stay with it, white, well, wouldn’t you, what have I got to fear
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| The hungry man needs a filthy bad mouth, practice in malarcky
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| I say how sorry I am and blame an indies darkey
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| From the man in the street, the man in the know, man in the iron mask
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| Need I answer your questions, need you fucking ask
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| You want someone to shit on you, please let me volunteer
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| I’m with it, white, well to do, what have I got to fear
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| And my voice echoes Nuremburg, every time I speak
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| I’m a curiosity, an atrocity, an antique
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| Watch it brother midnight, my blacklist makes it clear
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| If you’re not with it, white, well to do, there’s nothing for you here |