Done more washing and dishes in three weeks than in three years

Lacertilia on the stereo, Rafferty may have killed them last night

Or maybe a mouse

No fags for me for a while now, things are looking up in that respect

While the world dies a death, not of phet, but of a deadly disease

And a joking, ridiculous government

Flugel is getting an airing, while the jeans I am wearing

Get splattered with mud, from bike rides up the mountain

Keeps me in the youthful fountain

Psychedelic cat will miss me when this is over

He will have to play in the meadow with the clover

Magnet of Monsters pull me around, for my desire for doom

Is satisfied by SG and Gretsch sonic boom