The Obvious Songtext
von Naevus

Hand-banger messed it up again
Set his wits adrift
Just hanging on by the scruff of his neck
Could beat the lot of them at Crufts


He always got up in the morning
In a church-going medley of sound
In a quest for attention
In and around Swiss Cottage
He aspired to the television
Discussed it at length
While professing to hate it
Muck-raking in his own mind
Then rubbing it in your face

In the new Victorian park
He thought that he could watch the smell of air
Thought that he′d found his way again
He's waiting to be counted now
But I need to repel the fact