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She chose the soft centre
And took it to bed with her mother
And the ideal confusion
Was just an illusion
To gain further news of her brother
And the comfort of mother
Was just an appeal for protection
For the cat from next door
Was found later, at four
In surgical dissection
And I don't want to be
The son of any freak
Who for a chocolate centre
Can take you off the street
For soon they'll plough the desert
And God knows where I'll be
Collecting submarine numbers
On the main street of the sea
The vicar is thicker
And I just can't see through to him
For his cardinal sings
A collection of hymns
And a collection of coins is made after
And who wrote the bible
Was it Judas or Pilate
Well one cleans his hands
While the other one hangs
But still I continue to stand
And I don't want to be
The son of any freak
Who for a chocolate centre
Can take you off the street
For soon they'll plough the desert
And God knows where I'll be
Collecting submarine numbers
On the main street of the sea
