I stole the bottle of gin from over the counter and ran, I
 knew I'd been seen. 
I scarpered stifling giggles down the street 
and hid round a corner on a side street. 
I heard him huffing and the sound 
of his big feet against the paving, 
he was getting close. 
As he rounded the corner 
I sighted him up down the barrel of the gun
and on seeing his expression change 
to one of horror + confusuib jerked back the trigger.
His body was jolted back by the force of the bullet +
his feet flew foward. 
I saw a bright little rivulet of blood are into the air 
and I slid the gin into the waistband of my trousers.

CHORUS:
Who you fuckin lookin at?
Who the fuck you lookin at?
Who the fuck you lookin at?
Who the fuck you lookin at?

Is there really a thing like feeling too much? 
Can you really escape + numb the real? 
There's a way of saying, a way of sayin a shape
- I feel a certain shape and it's complicated it's not like a square or a circle 
It's like crystal or diamond, 
it's clean, hard, unfathomable 
and it ends in an augmental kiss
It ends in an augmental kiss

REPEAT CHORUS

Rock Stars are NOT cool
 They're full of his guy they call satan,
Kids stuff oozing from their mouths. 
They wear the shoes of dead soldiers shot by soldiers,
valium horses trotting squeezing 
through their rasberry blood. 
Sometimes I feel so stoopid I wanna quit - 
get out of it 'cos I hate this world 
and everyone in it - 
The fat Bald men who run it - 
the fat bald men