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Hey mr. High-end deputy executive, fingering on your interactive communicative device
Hey mr. Knotty-boy, the conciense of the world, sulking in the seat and claiming this very route a vice
If you only would know
What I got in my coat
The shearling tells you all of peace
No sign of contempt release
I will take you all down in the bang
Hey you there, mouse-haired lady, tired of the life and coughing out your nicotine-stained misery over the din
Hey you there, overweight veloptous nymphomaniac, too eager to show off your piggish grin and flappy thighs
If you only would know
What I got in my coat
The shearling tells you all of peace
No sign of contempt release
All of you will perish in the bang
Hey you all seventeens heading home from your highchool, complaining loudly of your chores and blocking up the halt
Hey you the elderly, reminiscing of the town and how it used to treat you good and how you weren't about to die
Hey you the factory working man, a dying breed prone to allowance plan
Hey you the fur-clad chatty woman, d'you ever think beyond the frying pan?
Though you, sweet girl I know
Let's get off by this road
D'you really think I'd leave my coat?
I'll hardly find an equal sort
I leave the compound in a paper bag