The last time I saw you, you were lying in a bush with a bag of glueNow you’re baking cakes for middle-aged ladies, and you’re married toA good-looking girl who gets on well, with your familyYou’ve made your mother proud at last and I guess that’s good enough for meYesterday I met the boy I used to spend my Christmas withHe used to be a monk now he deals cards and seems happy with itAnd there’s a lot to be said for lifelong love and sex and securityAnd a good-looking girl who gets on well, with your familyAnd I ignore religionIt never gave me anythingI can’t make decisions, I can’t make incisionsAnd I’m not a poet, but I’m not illiterateAnd I can’t get used to it, and I can’t get through itI saw you yesterday you were carrying pornographic magazinesYou offered me a gun then said that they were much more trouble than anyone needsYou’re still baking cakes for middle-aged ladiesYou’re still married toA good looking girl who gets on well with your familyA good looking girl who gets on well with your familyA good looking girl who gets on well with your family