Sitting in a gas mask waiting for World War 3125 Million
Sitting in the park with a friend called Doctor Six
Oh look, there's JG Ballard in a burnt out fridge with a Spitfire pilot
Took so much smack, I nearly married a car
Back in my bedsit, there's nothing to see
Just four grey walls and me and a TV
And faded photographs of Nazi stormtroopers in PVC
Is my toaster sentient?
If not, then how does it know how not to burn the toast?
Is my toaster sentient?
'Cause when mine broke down, I could swear I heard it crying
I don't know why
What do you think?
Maybe you'd cry if you couldn't make toast
Standing on the staircase in a black rubber top and a long, grey trenchcoat
Pink neon light bulb swinging over my head
I am not a Romo or a New Romantic, I'm a Cyborg rapist
I'm made of gas and wires and electric tubes and tarmac
Is my toaster sentient?
If not, then why did he give Mr Kettle a kiss?
Is my toaster sentient?
He likes silent films and his girlfriend's name is Chronos
Oh, what's going on in this messed up world?
There are loads of things I don't understand
Like, what is love?
What's the difference between boys and girls?
What's that penis between my legs for?
If I plug it in the wall, will it light up?
Or will I die?
Is my toaster sentient?
Is my blender mad? Is my telephone autistic?
Is my car a genius?
Is my bin a twat? Is my oven epileptic?
Is my Dad a photograph?
Is my Mum a spy? Is my grandad made of circuits?
Is my face an alien?
Is my arse a film? Are my elbows electronic?
Do you wanna come back to my place?
We can look at my secret mucky Polaroids
Just please don't tell my Mum

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