| Down on the street where kevin’s house stands
|
| You’ll never meet none of his soft pans- y kids there
|
| They’re nowhere to be seen
|
| He’s keeps them locked indoors all day
|
| Nobody knocks no more to play, with kevs kids
|
| Coz hes got them hidden away
|
| We get bullied on the bus
|
| Too cowardly to discuss
|
| Were kevin’s kids us
|
| We are, cry babies, they’re softies coz kevin
|
| We are, cotton wool kids, cotton wool kids, cotton wool kids, cotton wools kids
|
| They’re sissys, coz what he’s wrapped them in
|
| Comics and cds no chance when
|
| Watching the tvs forbidden, he says blue-
|
| Peters too violent
|
| He follows them to the bog and back
|
| A mollicoddling maniac, soft as crap
|
| Cotton wool wrapped by kevin
|
| We get bullied on the bus… |