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Blakey and Olive, freaks and fascistsIt's a Knockout with tiny moustachesThe Mosley frontbench, cheered on by the massesTake on the cast of On the BusesA cry goes up: "I'll get you, Butler"Mosley leers, he's played his JokerEnoch Powell, he's the man for meEnoch Powell, he's the man for mePowell gets tired of simple peopleSo he annexed the Midlands to frighten some liberalsFormer firebrand has epiphany hairyNow it's Groundhogs, Gong and Pink FairiesThe pot-head pixies on his shoulderAre getting more right-wing as they get olderEnoch Powell, he's the man for meEnoch Powell, he's the man for meThe former MP, now poet laureate, surveys the scene below, the giant custard pies and the foam...[???]SongtexteFloating anarchy, that's where I want to be'Cos space rocks, and space is the place for meMr Mosley, it's a pleasure to know youI'm honoured to shake your handBut those heads taught me something I didn't knowSomething that you won't understandYou said I was the poet of the nationWell, I'm a poet, man, I'm the poet of the constellationEnoch Powell, he's the man for meEnoch Powell, he's the man for meAnd the pot-head pixies know itEnoch Powell, space poet Aus Songtexte Mania