My New House Songtext

At the damn polyester fills
The interior is a prison unconscious


My new house
Keep away from my new house


Wash the drawers of pills
It's got window sills
With lead centred in the middle of them


My new house
Is no beatnik hang-out


That Halifax copter
Sure dropped me a cropper

Sometimes I think I'll ring Swine-Tax
And go back to my flat


But my new house
I do love the mad things about it


According to the postman
It's like the bleeding Bank of England


Creosote tar fence surrounds it
Those razor blades eject when I press eject


My new house
Could easily crack a mortal, it


The spare room is fine
Though a little haunted
By Mr. Reagan who had hung himself at number 13
Mr. Reagan hung himself at number 13


It'll be great when it's decorated
My new house