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It is bastard biz Slim shirt, belly pops out They call me Big Burt Darts player, tungsten delivery phantom On the treble sixty [?] It's really dated And yet you still caught it Make out you're knowledgeable You still rate it Airfix dickheads You snap-on tools who never grow Shelling out fifteen-hundred pounds to see an has-been Who can't even do three gigs in one go, what's that? Wheel that on a three-sixty You music magazines lying to us Just to stay in print Well, I want a free frisbee Plugging a shit pic So you can still parade around Arnos Grove in your get-up Namedropping nineties pricks Worse It's getting shitter SongtexteAnd no amount of talking about Something that you'll never do anything about Is gonna make it better Yeah, yeah, yeah I got a wonky back Inspector Gadget In deep sea batter 80's cafè, Scampi champ Alright chap, Bostom stump You fall off, splatter Beef jerky After hours in the farm shop restaurant bar Keys in a bowl murky Legs eleven Hundred percent dolphin-friendly Nets in caravan kitchen heaven We ain't got a lot And I don't want God's plan Is it twenty-five pound a month for the handset And free calls to the promised land? We ain't got a lot And I don't want God's plan Is it twenty-five pound a month for the handset And free calls to the promised land? I don't want God's plan Is it twenty-five pound a month And free calls to the promised land? It is bastard biz Slim shirt, belly pops out They call me Big Burt Belly pops out They call me Big Burt Belly pops out They call me Big Burt (They call me Big Burt) Aus Songtexte Mania