| From the black bag skip in the parking lot | 
| It’s a short bad trip to the candy shop | 
| Where the shrimps sell smack to the jelly snakes | 
| And the kids buy crack in their morning break | 
| And the grass grows bluer on the other side | 
| Where the old girls queue for their Mothers Pride | 
| For a slice of life it’s a bargain sale | 
| The price is right but the bread is stale | 
| From the high rise priest of the office blocks | 
| To a five year lease on a cardboard box | 
| From the Old Queens Head to the Burger King | 
| In my '57 Chevvy made from baked bean tins | 
| And when I drive that heap down the road | 
| You can hear the cheap car stereo | 
| Volume knob turned down low | 
| And rubbish on the radio | 
| From John O’Groats to Elmer’s End | 
| With busted lights and dodgy plates | 
| Scrawled with a ball point pen | 
| R U B B I S H | 
| I’m underage and uninsured | 
| On the High Road to Domestos | 
| Chloraflouracarbon Lord | 
| Asbestos lead asbestos | 
| From John O’Groats to Elmer’s End | 
| With busted lights and dodgy plates | 
| Scrawled with a ball point pen | 
| R U B B I S H | 
| I’m underage and uninsured | 
| On the High Road to Domestos | 
| Chloraflouracarbon Lord | 
| Asbestos lead asbestos | 
| I’ll meet you down by the litter bins | 
| Stretch my pins and feed my face | 
| Wait there 'til my ship comes in | 
| Loaded down with toxic waste | 
| I’m going now to meet my maker | 
| Ignition, clutch, accelerator | 
| Mirror, signal and manoeuvre | 
| GLORY, GLORY, GLORY HALLELUJAH! |