Don't Marry Her

                                  Think of you with pipe and slippers 

Think of her in bed 

Laying there just watching telly 

Then think of me instead 



I'll never grow so old and flabby 

That could never be 

Don't marry her, fuck me



And your love light shines like cardboard 

But your work shoes are glistening 

She's a PhD in "I told you so" 

You've a knighthood in "I'm not listening" 



She'll grab your sweaty bollocks 

Then slowly raise her knee 

Don't marry her, fuck me 



When the Sunday sun shines down on San Francisco Bay

And you know that you can't have it anyway 

You gotta wash the car 

Take the kiddies to the park 

Don't marry her, fuck me



Those lovely Sunday mornings 

With breakfast brought in bed 

Those blackbirds look like knitting needles 

Trying to peck your head 



Those birds will peck your soul out 

And throw away the key 

Don't marry her, fuck me



And the kitchen's always tidy 

And the bathroom's always clean 

She's a diploma in "just hiding things" 

You've a first in "low esteem" 



When your socks smell of angels 

But your life smells of Brie 

Don't marry her, fuck me 



And the Sunday sun shines down on San Francisco bay 

And you realize you can't make it anyway 

You have to wash the car 

Take the kiddies to the park 

Don't marry her, fuck me



And the Sunday sun shines down on San Francisco bay 

And you realize you can't make it anyway 

You have to wash the car 

Take the kiddies to the park 

Don't marry her, fuck me