I've got pills, I've got CD's
I've got watches, I've got no straps
You can have any colour
You can have black, have black
We're mowing in the garden
We're dancing to the drip-beat
We're moaning in the garden
'Cuz now everyone's got wet feet
I'm searching through your old bag
I've got pills, I've got CD's
I've got lunch, I've got CD's
Can you pull out a new album for me?
We're scrubbing off the patio
We're waiting for the clay class
We're hoping that it doesn't pour
We're shouting out the windows
We're calling fake numbers
We're riding on our bicycles
In Copenhagen and in France
You're calling about your new bag
You can have any colour
You can choose a man or woman's
You can go if you need to
You can call me if you want one
You can call me if you want one
You can call me if you need one
But I sold it to a friend in Kempton
I sold it to a friend in Kempton
Sing, sing, sing, sing orderly
Sing, sing, sing, sing orderly
Sing, sing, sing, sing orderly
Sing, sing, sing, sing orderly
They say the children are the future
The kids are punks
They're miles and miles from the magic
They're always skipping lunch
Sing, sing, sing, sing orderly
I'm walking around in some foreign town
Can you look after me, me, me?
Can you be up when I'm up?
Can you be down when I'm down?
I'm mowing in the garden
I'm scraping off the patio
I'm weeding the drive
So the neighbours think it looks good
I'm shouting out the window
I'm writing out my postcard
I'm baking so we
Don't turn up there empty-handed
We're baking 'em
We're making 'em
We're shaking on 'em
So the cunts give us a break
Sing, sing, sing, sing orderly
Sing, sing, sing, sing orderly
Sing, sing, sing