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Ding dong, ding dongHi! Hey! Sorry we're lateYou're not the firstOh Great!Hey listen I'm sorry but we can't stay lateso we parked in the middle at the top by the gateon the grass with the crass Volkswagen estateWhose is it? Mine! You're kidding, it's great! (Jesus)I just love the way he's used the car like an empty canvasand let the rust eat itself into the overall designwith such devastating spontaneityDavid you're ignoring me, come hereWho do you have to fuck to get a drink 'round here?It's art David, neo-functional mannerismcerebral but obliqueit's one star four owner shagged out chicone star four owner shagged out chic [x5]You're a cocksucker Michaelyou are what you eat David!Ding dong, ding dong, ding dong, ding dong, ding dongDarling, darling, Hi darlingHello darling John! Ben! John! Sandy! John! Somerset! John!Weekend! John! Wendy! John! Kevin! Got any?No but I've got champagne!Hi, hi, hi there.Damn it I know you're in a bit of a spotSongtexteand you're used to the Merc and the Moet and the yachtand it must be a blow to the ego, what!But forget about this video rotand write yourselves a hit or threelike "I'm Not in Paris" or "The Dean and Me"I mean really I don't like your stuff very muchit's too avant garde and aggressive and butchI prefer a gentle and melodic touchbut the kids today have got their ears in their crutchIf it's not robots singing in Dutchit's Adam and the Ants and Starsky and HutchBy the way here's your present, Thanks very muchNow who's here?The Prews, the Magoos, the Targetts and the BenmenJohnny Peruvian, Marathon Man,Blonde and the dangerous cameramanHello. The Prews, the Magoos, the Targetts, and the BenmenBrando, Banacek, Pusher, Taker,Student Prince and cocktail shakerHello. The Prews, the Magoos, the Targetts, and the BenmenTim Clinch Vicar's son, Prince Buster meets Tweedledum...Hello. The Prews, the Magoos, the Targetts, and the BenmenWell Jesus Christ is that the timeI could have sworn it was only twenty to nineHello Susan darling you look divineAnyway we'd better be off before we get blocked inso give our regards to the Paul and the Lynnesand the swankys and the chatters and the Tequila twinssorry Attilla's bridesAnyway must go, must fly, don't drink yourselves to deathbut the baby is allergic to the babysitter's breathand she'll have her boyfriend in a vice-like gripon the backgammon table sucking guacamole dipthrough the holes in his stockings, isn't it shocking!Champagne.I hope the whole world comes to my birthday party [x8]Oh boy my skin feels about an inch thick, how about you Ben?I'm fine, another line?Why is everybody talking in speech balloonsand disappearing in Tequila fumesAnother line? Fine.I love you Ben, let me count the wayswhoops here comes the Spaghetti BolognaiseSo I'm stuck in the toilet with Rickand I'm gonna be, I'm gonna be, I'm gonna be, I'm gonna beI think I'm gonna be, it's gonna be, I'm gonna be,it's gonna be, gonna be, gonna be, it's gonna beso long RickIt's gonna be me and the bowl,me and the bowlme and the never ending bowlme and the bowlme and the bowlme and the never ending bowlme and the bowlme and the bowlme and the never ending bowlI hope the whole world comes to my birthday party [x8] Aus Songtexte Mania