| Midnight Saturday sat in the dark
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| Watching the ceiling falling apart
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| The air-conditioner's been busted for weeks
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| So the smell of cooking seeps through the floor
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| I can’t eat no more
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| They want me to be as light as a feather
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| So the Doctor’s wired my jaws together
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| Now I’m locked in the bedroom away from the food
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| So I lie on my back in the dark in the nude
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| I can’t eat no more
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| I got to use a straw
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| But if the Devil dragged me down to the kitchen
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| I wouldn’t put up a fight
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| I’d gladly sign away my soul
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| For a T-bone steak tonight
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| I feel like Kojak sitting in a Cadillac
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| I gotta eat, I gotta eat a Flapjack
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| A stack, a rack, a six-pack Jack
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| Just call me Jack Kerouac
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| Click-clack open up the hatchback
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| I could eat a Bubble car or a packamack
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| Pattacake, pattacake Big Mac
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| Good God it’s a snack attack
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| Gimme sausage, egg and beans and chips
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| Milkshakes, clambakes, fondue & dips
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| And sauces, horses, 17 courses
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| Of barbequed beef with asparagus tips
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| Rashers of bacon, bagels and lox
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| And tandoori prawns and a box of chocs
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| Spaghetti with mussels, palma hams
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| & deep frozen waffles with syrup & jams
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| My willpower’s gone I’m down on my knees
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| Praying to the God of cottage cheese
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| It’s no good trying I’ll never beat it
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| 'cos if it moves I’ll eat it
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| So undo my trousers, let out the slack
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| Who cares it’s a snack attack
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| It’s a snack attack
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| I feel like Kojak sitting in a Cadillac
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| I gotta eat, I gotta eat a Flapjack
|
| A stack, a rack, a six-pack Jack
|
| Just call me Jack Kerouac
|
| Click-clack open up the hatchback
|
| I could eat a Bubble car or a packamack
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| Pattacake, pattacake Big Mac
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| Good God it’s a snack attack
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| It’s a snack attack
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| It’s a snack attack
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| It’s a snack attack
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| My father was a gents outfitter
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| My mother went crazy, they had to commit her
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| They used to tell me don’t be a quitter
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| But I know deep down I’m the runt of the litter
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| I can’t eat no more
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| I gotta use a straw
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| How do you take an overdose
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| Or even pretend to do it
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| When the last straw is the one in your mouth
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| And you can’t suck sleepers through it
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| I can’t eat no more
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| I gotta use a straw
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| But if the Devil took me to Mexico
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| To taste his guacamole
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| I’d gladly sign my name in blood
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| And give him the keys to my soul
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| Because I can’t eat no more
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| I can’t eat no more
|
| I feel like Kojak sitting in a Cadillac
|
| I gotta eat, I gotta eat a Flapjack
|
| A stack, a rack, a six-pack Jack
|
| Just call me Jack Kerouac
|
| Click-clack open up the hatchback
|
| I could eat a Bubble car or a packamack
|
| Pattacake, pattacake Big Mac
|
| Good God it’s a snack attack
|
| It’s a snack attack
|
| It’s a snack attack
|
| I feel like Kojak sitting in a Cadillac
|
| I gotta eat, I gotta eat a Flapjack
|
| A stack, a rack, a six-pack Jack
|
| Just call me Jack Kerouac
|
| Click-clack open up the hatchback
|
| I could eat a Bubble car or a packamack
|
| Pattacake, pattacake Big Mac
|
| Good God it’s a snack attack
|
| It’s a snack attack
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| Midnight Sunday asleep on the floor
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| Curled up in the corner can’t take no more
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| Armies of food invade my sleep
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| Led by lasagnas ten inches deep
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| My head is pounding my heart is beating
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| Cows are mooing sheep are bleating
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| I’m being haunted by all the meat I’ve eaten
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| And then a burglar alarm goes off in my head
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| And I wake up screaming am I dead or alive
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| And the clock says five
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| It’s only five in the morning
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| I’m covered in sweat
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| Am I hungry? |
| you bet!
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| Cold turkey’s what I’m going through
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| Cold turkey’s what I need
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| But they hung a sign on my appetite
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| Saying «Danger Do Not Feed»
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| I can’t eat no more
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| I got to use a straw
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| I can’t eat no more
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| I can’t eat no more
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| And they’ve even taken away
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| The pictures of food I had on my wall
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| And my treasured collection of menus
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| They screwed up into a ball
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| In front of my face they flicked it
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| Out of the window into the night
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| But they’ll never unscramble the combination
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| They’ll never get it right
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| Now if they made a feature film
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| That featured only food
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| I’d wallow in the crowd scenes
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| While the rest of the audience booed
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| And if I got myself a video
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| I could satisfy the need
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| I could check out the action frame by frame
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| And watch the calories breed
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| But I can’t eat no more
|
| I got to use a straw
|
| I can’t eat no more
|
| I can’t eat no more
|
| I got to use a straw
|
| I feel like Kojak sitting in a Cadillac
|
| I gotta eat, I gotta eat a Flapjack
|
| A stack, a rack, a six-pack Jack
|
| Just call me Jack Kerouac
|
| Click-clack open up the hatchback
|
| I could eat a Bubble car or a packamack
|
| Pattacake, pattacake Big Mac
|
| Good God it’s a snack attack
|
| It’s a snack attack
|
| I feel like Kojak sitting in a Cadillac
|
| I gotta eat, I gotta eat a Flapjack
|
| A stack, a rack, a six-pack Jack
|
| Just call me Jack Kerouac
|
| Click-clack open up the hatchback
|
| I could eat a Bubble car or a packamack
|
| Pattacake, pattacake Big Mac
|
| Good God it’s a snack attack
|
| It’s a snack attack |