I don't want to open the mail,
The stories it might tell,
Would send me off to hell.

And I'm too scared to open the door,
For another day whats that fir,
To tell me it needs more

So heres the crack, watch you back cos this is England,
And I'm too fucking lazy for a job in your opinion,
I'd be better if you left me on my own,
Where no-one's getting me down.

What John clinged on through the nick,
Got thrown out on the skip, from masterpiece to tip,
Afraid and who could blame him soldiering on,
With no more basses left to pawn,
Wipe away the tears at dawn

Reign over me big city,
Sign out from streets so cheap,
In fields of gold, I hold her,
To one promise I know she can keep.