woke up this morning and the streets were full of cars all bright and shiny like they'd just arrived from mars

and as i stumbled through last nights drunken debris
the paperboy screamed out the headlines in the street
another war and now the pound is looking weak
why do I feel bitter when i should be feeling sweet?
we're bingo numbers and our names are obsolet
and tell me have you read about the latest freak
does anybody really listen when i speak,

or will i have to say it all again next week?

From: Shakespear`s sisters