Eat Y’self Fitter ​The Fall

I'm in the furniture trade
Got a new job today
But stick the cretin
On the number-three lathe

Went down the town
To a HM club
The sign had a cross
Through a couple well-dressed
They looked at my coat
They looked at my hair
An Easy Rider coot
Grabbed the edge of my coat
Said: 'You're too smart for here'
I said: 'I'll see the manager'

He was the manager
Eat y'self fitter
Up the stairs mister
Eat y'self fitter

Analytics have got
My type worked out
Analytics on me
The poison render
I grope about
And when I go out
My mind splits
My eyes doth hurt
The musical chairs
Have been swallowed up
By a cuddly group
Who land and rub off
Hoping that
Whatever it is
Will land and drop off