Wandered to the baker’s shop,
asked for the sweetest cake they got
They said you’re from Milky Wimpshake
and you play pop
so you can take the fucking lot
I said “No, no, you’ve got me wrong
the cake is a metaphor, I only want one
In any case, you must be drunk
cos Wimpshake isn’t pop, it’s punk”

Went down to the punk rock show
Hoped for wild thrills, but I didn’t know
Paid my three quid, and walked to the front
I started dancing like I’m out to lunch
I said “Yes, yes, you’ve get the funk
You’re even better than an LP called Kerplunk
And, by the way, I am not drunk
and I have no plans to become a monk

This is a B-side
So under a bushel, I’m going to hide
all my good ideas
I’ll finish this song like I finish a beer

Went down to the bottom line
There’s more to a song than making it rhyme
And you can write them anytime
but there’s no point, without good lines
Oh, but okay, you can have good tunes
You can sell your record with a free balloon
You can get your singer to dress up fine
but the song won’t stand the test of time

This is cyanide
Even though I’m joking, my arrogant crime
could make you all turn away
but I’m still gonna sing every day