When I need you you?re only ever twenty-eight away with a tailwind
I?m on Shimano Ultegra now, ain?t you heard?
Through the trauma Jemma Guntrip has failed as a friend
Venezuela, Australia, then me.
But when it?s too late for drunks and too early for milkmen
Give me the moonlight, give me a spade.
I?ve got soil on my fingers; I?ve got worms in my shoes,
The stench of death lingers when I lie next to you,
I?ve been allowed about an hour to comprehend
That I simply can?t walk out the door
They?ve got rules by which I must abide; regulations to keep me secure.
With a help chute and a carbon monoxide alarm
We would still have our Thursday afternoons
Consolation in the form of a halogen lamp
Dark was the night, cold was the ground.
When you?ve got nothing to lose you get worms in your shoes
You get the subterranean lovesick blues.
I?m still your number one fan; I?m your Betterware man
I?m still your number one fan; I?m your Betterware man
I?m still your number one fan; I?m your Betterware man.