Thursday and the kiss of the wind on my face feels cold,
if only I could fold myself up and keep warm in my pocket
I would.

' what's good for the goose ' feels like a hangman's noose.

it could be the glint of gold,
but it's more likely to be six inches
of Sheffield steel that's dazzling me,
did I mention that it's cold?

The six o-clock shock,
the missing button, can't find a sock,
can someone knock me out