This didn’t used to be me, old boy
This isn’t what I’d want
Pulling old night fighters
In a restaurant
There’s smoke and flames behind me
Where the self-respect all went
And I’m behind, behind
With the rent

I’ve been stitched up like a kipper, old son
But I won’t be again [bad word] hath no fury
Oh, I’m like a lot of men
Now I’m stalking this old Doris
With lascivious intent
And I’m behind, behind
With the rent

Just a little duck and dive
And a bit of wheel and deal
She’ll remind me I’m a live
She’ll remind me I still feel
Just a little shelling out
For a bit of you-know-what
I know this is all about
Something that I never got

Well this [bad word] s past it’s sell-by-date
But they all would qualify
They’re going to be lonely
And be happy [bad word] She knows that I’m a [bad word] on like a gent
But I’m behind, behind
With the rent
Yes, I’m behind, behind
With the rent