On the way home from the Blade Bone You see a lot of wriggle and drone All the shamen and some gay men Walk it back as they wriggle and drone On the flightpath, after the bloodbath It's a feast of wriggle and drone My favourite pop group With their drumloops Lock it down as they wriggle and drone... All the subtle links are severed To the coiling arcs of pleasure Though it seems it lives for ever - There's nothing left but wriggle and drone... So bracing, south-facing In the sun we wriggle and drone On the back foot When I last looked You couldn't move for wriggle and drone All the Greek boys, with their bleak noise: Ruritanian wriggle and drone Feel the blastwave from the Batcave: Cataclysmic wriggle and drone... There is nothing left to hope for Or to push the envelope for Not inclined to drop the soap for Anymore of that wriggle and drone... On the shake-down We had a scrape round All bound for wriggle and drone With the grindcore On the shop-floor They're all for wriggle and drone... On the blindside Slightly pie-eyed Won't be denied some wriggle and drone Out in deep space And at the duck race We got a taste for wriggle and drone... Quite a lot of now or nevers Surreptitious use of feathers All those classical endeavours: File em under wriggle and drone... (Wriggle has a thing that doesn't quit Drone has a wriggle inside of it) (Drone gotta wriggle on the blindside Wriggle got a drone it cannot hide)