The telly is red hot It's autumn in my loins There's glamour in them hills Tonight All my ingrown time Grapes of solid pain Feed me to the door again Trying to hitch a ride On a tinfoil deathstar My baby's trying to hitch a ride On a tinfoil deathstar People make demands It's hard to understand Background hum at best Right now Holding back the light Put down your batter ram Calm your shaking hands Tonight Trying to hitch a ride On a tinfoil deathstar My baby's trying to hitch a ride On a tinfoil deathstar Is that David Clapson Wincing through the glass? A deck of death white sanctions Firmly in his grasp Type one Type one It'a a type one situation Type one Type one It's a type one situation