Lyrics

I worked for future salary
The night-shift in Spalding Street
The respect is worth it
One a.m. at the front gate 
It had just been Sunday night 
Stood this man, tall and twisted back
He spoke loud and said, "come out of there"
The grill on the wall contains a crowd 
And the twisted shape you call the laundry post reminds me of my origin
Your criss-crossed fences are avenues
Paid for by the NHS, you need it more than the patients for mortgage fees and medical pranks
But you won't fix my quartz chip or repair my broken kind
Kindness borne of mousey brain
Twisted with kin of bitter world
Vicious dreams of EC1 and Lapland girls and green purse with tall and chaste inductments

The porter went to move the man
And we got back to practice time
But his hands went through the man
He was made up of liquid pitch
His legs two propeller sticks
Criss-crossed fence posts were his eyes
His mouth red like a twisted reich
His mouth like a twisted knife
He reeked of bleach and hospitals
He reeked of bleach and hospitals
The porter swears this is true
He reeked of bleach and hospitals
The porter swears this is true
And drinks too much in his brown and white hut
But the thing clings to the acceptance gate
The thing clings to the acceptance gate
The thing clings to the acceptance gate
The thing clings to the medical acceptance gate
And nobody says he's seen it
It only bounces young MDs
But we are dedicated to fight disease
To fight disease
Disease
Disease