I'm sorry that you thought of us as painful and superfluous
But please don't think I'm that thick skinned to want my seed in any old wind
I can't believe we'll just exist as figments of each others past
Where is it at to get to this, when lawyers lurk where lovers kissed?

And half the blasted idiots are stuck in Yugoslavia
With hardly a Dinar
And looking no cleaner
Than a Chinese wrestler's jock-strap
Cooked in chip fat
On a greasy day