Son, there are mirros here-watch your performing little whales
   Or snip your harness of and take another walk around the bay
   The way the English say we only mustn't grumble in the end
   A needle in your back, an arrow in your heart, you smile
   CHORUS
   Is your wax doll still crying in the fire?
   It cramps your handwriting, and dulls what little style you have
   You cast your mind back to professionals like Alan Breeze
   Who sees the windows freeze and hands around the keys
   "Unlock yourself," he says, but no one ever does
   Except for Jacob Lurch, and Mr. Moose and Dandy
   CHORUS
   Do you think that anybody wants to be your friend
   Now that they know?
   Son, there are breakers here-your living room it glides across the sea
   Or high above waves, the wrinkled little waves you cannot smooth
   We travel everywhere, we're gonna take the suburbs to the stars
   If I was man enough I'd come on your stump
   If I was man enough I'd come on your stump
   But don't you know, this is the Home Counties
   CHORUS