A man was spoiled tonight as he took the air by the waterside
He seemed to hesitate so repentant to participate
Press pause, the dealing's off, events had gone quicker than he'd ever had thought
Head down but there's no-one around into those? but the tights had started waving
The local paper screams his name
They print his postcode to shame him
An honest drink, the curtains twitch
The perfect home and fever pitch
He was always proud of his scars but the wind below me goes so far
Now he's always first to the bar developing a taste for a cool sensation
Man down, a man overboard, the women and the children all stand and applaud
Down this bumpy of a road the voices are never good enough and the laughs had gone too far
The local paper screams his name
They print his postcode but he's not ashamed
The social service, that's too swell
Of course it leaves a fiery trail
It was a myth and I almost believed it but what about the part where the dealer's defeated?
They'd be offended to fire in their own city there's a formula that works and it should be repeated
The local paper screams his name
They print his postcode but he's not ashamed
An honest drink, the curtains twitch
The perfect home and fever pitch