Such a sensitive opinion in one so young

Would you like to know about everything that we've done

You believe what you read in the printed lies

But you won't believe the evidence of your own eyes

And yes I've done a lot of things that you'd probably call a crime

But I don't feel guilty for anything

All the tongues waggle but we just smile

That'll keep the little buggers going for a while

I live within natural justice, I understand nature's law

But as for your Christian morals . . .

Oh, how you love this, how you love it

You go out and you find it

How you love it, how you love it

Such horror, oh such a farce, a little bit of broken glass

You should think yourself lucky that this was done

You'll have something you can whine about for years to come