BITCH AT THE BRITS

Ladies & Gentlemen! Ladies & Gentlemen!
1-2-3-4!

Stupid, pushy and needy
Christ! you people are greedy
Your eyes are big, your mind is small
You're the goddamn queen of nothing-at-all
Get a mobile phone, a bright red car
Car! Phone! Phone! Car!

Eyeing all the exits you're aware that he's got
One hand up your t-shirt and one hand on your box
There are Ultra Lows and Superkings
Your head's in little bits
You were a cow all over Popstarz and
A bitch at the Brits.

If another no-mark
Pushes me on these heaving stairs
I'll explode from my Gucci handbag
To the roots of the streaks in my nylon hair
Get out of my way! Get off the stairs!
Streaks! Hair! Streaks! Stairs!

Eyeing all the exits you're aware that he's got
One hand up your t-shirt and one hand on your crotch
There are Ultra Lows and Superkings
Your head's in little bits
You were a cow all over Popstarz and
A bitch at the Brits (that's right)

F-list are clogging up the cubicles
And the queue runs round from yesterday
And next year, I'll make my own home bomb
And blow them all away
I'll be the alien bomber of the music biz
Alien! Alien! Bomber! Bomber!

Eyeing all the exits you're aware that he's got
One hand on your coke wrap and one hand on his cock
There are Ultra Lows and Superkings
Your head's in little bits
You were a cow all over Popstarz and
A bitch at the Brits.

Right you fuckers!

Eyeing all the exits. Etc

You're not aware
You're not all there