Murray, what’s your hurry, in your flurry of false fury,
Missing every single point, it’s so pointless being surly
I share in your despair at state of this divided nation, it’s
Unfair, yes, it’s unjust, just your attitude’s not helping

Performance art, at heart, a pantomime, so retrograde
Kicking in a Foxton’s Window sold as revolution
What you’re calling punk rock, I call wanking in a sock of
Mid-life crisis,; so divisive, lefties need to unify

Sorry I can’t hate the rich, and not for want of trying
I’m not buying every one is evil, deserving to be dying
So some cops are wicked? Got it. Hardly rocket science!
Find a better target. Use that rage to help the poor

Performance art, at heart, a pantomime, so retrograde
Can’t engage in rage, or wage your most middle Class War,
What you’re calling punk rock, I call wanking in a sock of
Argy-bargy, hurly burly, politics excusing crass war

Yes it’s terrifying - all the gentrifying intensifying
Across our once proud city, no-one seems to cares, more’s the pity
Your payment’s not accepted, your card has been rejected
‘cos that argument’s defective, and I am no detective

Performance art, at heart, a pantomime, so retrograde -
Left the Labour party but you still come to the hustings -
What you’re calling punk rock, I call wanking in a sock, mate
Minted! Vintage! Busted! Done and dusted, have yourself a bust-up