Fat cop on a bike Trying to work it off on the beat As he rides his bike down the street And he lets them all get away It's a complex morning Lots of activity And those just resting their feet Watching faces go by I'll send you a parcel To get over your malaise If it's all too much trouble Get into your own game Lots of cigarettes bummed By those just twiddling their thumbs And pickups trawl the streets Combing for treasure troves Keep it in the need to know As cars they saunter My footsteps falter Tied up in the undergrowth I'll send you a parcel To get over your malaise If it's all too much trouble Get into your own game Send you a parcel To get over your bad days If it's all too much trouble Get back to your old ways