Sex Machine

I’ve got a brand new pair of genes

I’ve been to the doc, he’s got the means

He’s turned me into a Sex Machine

He’s given me a pair of enormous balls

That could even fill the Festival Hall

With schoolgirls *screaming* for more and more (*sometimes creaming or even squeaming*)

I’m going to the doctor’s

It’s easy you see

No need for operations

And you’ll know how it feels

Penises Costume
I’ve got pricks on my…

Tomorrow I get my hands done

With fifteen fingers and a phallic thumb

I’ll rattle the girls till they come and come

The stomach lining change has really done the trick

It brews alcohol and give me kicks

And makes me have supersonic sicks


I’ve got pricks on my toes and one on my nose

And some on my back that nobody knows

And the one I got first still grows and grows

I’ve got a set of clits hanging in my ear

I went to the doc to get a smear

He told me I had gonorrhoea


I nuclear prick is hidden up my bum

I tried it on a lady who likes some fun

And she got blown to kingdom come




I’ll send away for anything free

Coz coffee doesn’t interest me

Doo-Doo, doo doo, doo doo

I’m afraid to eat my tea

Oh! but I love saucers

Spinning on bendy sticks

Harry Secombe’s coming to tea (twice) (later changed to: Carry beacons
into the sea)

Merry Christmas, Prince Charles (*Original Version. Remake will have currently relevant lyrics) – it’s got to be done coz he’s a twat

Christmas is coming

The pigs are getting fat

Gonna put some coppers

In the coppers hat

The kids all join the navy

They want a royal kiss

Peter, Mark, Andrew’s what they’re called

I’m so happy it’s Christmas

Merry Christmas Prince Charles

Merry Christmas Prince Charles

Merry Christmas Prince Charles

Merry Christmas Prince Charles

Our Captain rides horses

He also rides Ann

Puftas don’t make queens

They only make fancy men

Make sure you’ve got some money

Keep it all

Don’t give it to charity

Just to the Policeman’s Ball

(Chorus) followed by indeterminate length guitar solo and audience posturing when performed live


You’ve got a father who’s no better

He’s just a greasy wop from Greece

The people all look up to him

And his Gold Award Scheme

Make sure you’ve got some money

Keep it all

Don’t give it to charity

Just to the Policeman’s Ball

(Chorus) x2 at least

Loofas (track appears unlisted as what would be track 4 on LTM print of Homunculus Equinox)

I’ve got loofas at home in a bag

I’ve got loofas on the 442

I take loofas to my grandpa’s grave

I’ll bring loofas to you


Mummy’s Tummy

Sitting in my womb

Feels like I’m growing in a tomb

Cos she’s my mummy and I’m living in her tummy

Mummy’s tummy! Mummy’s Tummy!

Sitting in my womb

Feels like so cozy

Can’t breathe much in here

Connected by a tube

Sitting in my mummy’s tummy

Trying to suck my thumb

I’m in my mummy’s tummy

It’s mummy’s tummy

I’m in my mummy’s tummy etc etc etc etc etc



Ashen Face,

Ashen Face, powder white venture


Clack’n Hair

Clack’n Hair says things, clack! clack!

Roger’s okay

Roger’s alright

Roger’s just fine


Ashen Face,

Ashen Face, powder white venture



I haven’t got time for the fashion pages

The dressed up tarts get me in a rage

The monetary men can leave me alone

‘Cos I don’t have money and I don’t have a car

Well the motoring column can stay where it is

In between the weather and the gossip columnists.

Oh the Marchioness of Sh-shit is doing all right

She’s off on holiday where the weather is “rather nice”

She fancies a singer who’s divorce is almost through

But he likes an old flame who’s inherited some glue.

I haven’t got time for the stock exchange buffs

In their pin-striped suits they’re a load of puffs

You’ve got to have money to make a bomb

So why the hell won’t they give me some?

It’s not for me that I whinge and moan

Just the good of the nation, I mean

I’m on the dole.

Oh I hate the tarts in their revealing skirts

They won’t show their cunts

What a load of flirts

Its’s all so nice

It’s all so cute

Here’s the new line for the spring that’s due.

Profitability is a sign of the times

You’ve got to keep on working for the rest of your lives

Now the tories are in ( Alt: If the tories get in)

It’s alright for the surgeons (Alt: It’ll be alright for the surgeons)

But us on the dole we’ll be cutting grass verges.

It’s true.

The Outsider

Desolation could be gaining on me

It’s all fancy

Corruption around the next bend


The knife grazes the temple

Just glancing

I’m a clapped-out, stinking miasma

I don’t think Mary cares for me.

Well I guess I’ve just wasted my life

Flickin’ through magazines thinking I might

Gonna take out a nightmare trip

Do summat to find some kicks

Desolation could be gaining on me

It’s all fancy

Corruption around the next bend


All I Need is a Love that Burns (also called Pleasure)

All I need is a love that burns

All I need is a girl that’s hot

All I need is another day

Because that’s all I got

I’m not for you

I’m not for you

I’m not for you

I’m just for me……

…eaning what you say doesn’t bother me

Give me all your money and run away

Telling all your friends about a man you once knew

Running to your mummy like I just don’t know



Like a Turkish Pirate

I fall lame

With every chance that I get

But the weals on my back make me forget

Never able to stand up

Urbane Encounter
Like a Crawling Chaos
Like a Crawling Chaos

Crawling through the centre of the screaming souls

I can’t tell the time like the way I should

I can’t wait long I’m only twenty-two

By the time I get out I’ll be turning blue

And you know how it feels to be locked in a zoo

Well, I feel like a suicide’s death bed

You people step on me and you don’t care

You’re only rushing home for your tea

You’re only doing the same as me

I lean against a wall to collect my thoughts

I get swept along in the surging throng

I don’t use money – I use credit cards

In all the shops with the security guards

I’ve gotta get out before the shops close down

I don’t want to get locked in the dosser’s town

Insane Domain, it’s crawling with bird brains

You can’t complain, when the place is a shit drain

You double your chances of catching the louse

When you walk out the door to the mad-house

Ah, morbid thoughts rushing through my mind

As the people scratch past as they run out of time

The subways are packed right out to the seams

By a glutinous mob who’ve spent past their means

In boutiques – and cafes – and hi-fi stores

But let’s see you show me the dirty book store

And there’s no reason for me to stay

Well, I didn’t want to come here in the first place

Ah well, I only came to buy a pound of pears

And I’m gonna be here for years and years, and years.

When the Muzak starts I just can’t stop

Thinking about all the tunes of grot

And up at the bar where the sporty types forage

It’s eighty-four pence for a pint of orange

The security guards stalk round and round

And it’s out on your arse if you don’t fit with the crowd

Strobe lights and fashionable bars

There’s no place to park your car

The smell of the cafes, it makes me want to puke

And you’ll easy get out if you’ll only look, well look!

* A Fifth verse, later omitted, went as follows:

Santas on windows with sprayed-on snow

And plastic reindeer with nose aglow!

Velkom tir Nordski, all over the place

The money situation’s a shocking disgrace

And little children try to head you in the fly

And old ladies with umbrellas try to poke out your eye

This referred to the fashion at Xmas for Northumberland Street in Newcastle to be plastered with Norwegian slogans as well as the normal festive stuff. This was due to the then favourable exchange rate with Norway, so Norwegians arrived in their droves. I’ve included this verse even though it was crap because it features in one of the first live recordings. This will be in the streamed audio section soon enough. It WAS funny for a bit, though – like, you know.


Get off your heart

Get off your soul

Win the race

Makes you feel small

It’s the end

Of a soul

It’s the end

Of us all

I can smell the worms coming

I can smell the worms coming




Repeat ad infinitum until satisfied, etc etc etc

Jhonn’s Angel
John Dee and Edward Kelley evoking a spirit.
John Dee and Edward Kelley evoking a spirit.

Flies gather around

Her festering eyes

In the ferns where she lies

Scry Auriel Scry

Beltane Beltane

The Kingdom of flies

Turn Altair henbane

Twist as you burn

In the smokescreen of wings

Saliva tentacle clings

For Ujiji

Beltane Beltane

In the Kingdom of flies

**Recent information from Mr Vex Dhole has cast light on what should have been original lyrics to this track, that should have referred to Dee and Kelly.  Hence the creepy picture… WooooH.

*** Extra info also suggests another case of Flambard and his snow covered boulder.  Lyrics altered to suit.

Frauline le Moine

Vulnerable clocks keep turning

When the blue soul rises dilly-dilly

Pewter jugs rust in France

He used to say I’d lost my teepee

Danny Slater is bianco

Festooned in his mama’s blanket

Good lordy me! I’ll have to impale ya

Stab and burn your red regalia

Blokies wear hair laquer in the Deuchars, oh!

Throwing Pins

I’m throwin’ pins, I’m throwin’ pins

I’m throwin’ pins all over the ground

I’m throwin’ pins, I’m throwin’ pins

I’m throwin’ pins all over the ground

Throwin' Pins Lyrics
Throwin’ Pins Lyrics

Well I’ve been throwing pins now

I’ve travelled all around

I’ve been right up the country and then I came back down

I’ve never had such fun

In the whole of my life

And when I get more experienced I’ll go onto throwing knives


It really is such fun

Throwin’ pins on the beach

Watchin’ all those people with those pins stuck in their feet

The pain those people get

It really is such a crime

And when I get more experienced I’m gonna take it up full time


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2 Replies to “Lyrics”

  1. Hi, what blog platform is this? Can I download it for free or..? I would really like it if you could answer this question! Ciao!

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