FIRST OUT

Your boyhood posters are peeling
Your Star Trek curtains tightly closed
Dumped back here in Police cars
Running away from home.
The rest of your brothers and sisters
You don't know what they're on about.
One things sure
There's the door
And you're gonna be first out.

Hey big brother!
Lend me your motorbike
The room's gone red and it's
Spinning around
Hey big brother!
Feel like some kind of satellite
I'm disconnected
Unravelling now.
He's always pushing you around and round
But you could do with him now.

The judge says you are an adult
He also says you must have known
That Mr. and Mrs. O' Grady
Were likely to be home
You don't like the look of the jury
As the evidence gets passed around
One thing's sure
There's the door
And you know you're going down.

Hey big brother! Etc

(juror's rap)
Feel like I'm a fucking tourist
I'm a dancer, I'm a florist
I pass my Polos around the jury
Last night's drugs still running through me
The Viagra and ecstacy
The cocaine-joints and Ketamine
The photographs we have to check 'em
But I can't stop thinking 'bout David Beckham
Last night did Martin then did Mick
Then Martin had some kind of fit
I couldn't get a taxi to the Old Kent Road
So I walked through the Common on my own
I came across some threesome freakshow
Watched a bit then went to go
A man called Stephen said hello
So I didn't end up Home Alone.

The man in the dock can see right through me
He answers the judge respectfully
As the hands on my watch go backwardsly
I'm coming down in the Old Bailey.