He's not the type of guy that you'd recognise There's nothing to suggest that he's a prize winner His only claim to fame is a plaque above his bed says He's a good boy He's not the sort of man you could easily like You can't exactly say that he's a nice guy
His only one delight is to see her late at night Before the curtains are drawn Oooh heavy breathing he's out of control Oooh heavy breathing he'd sell you his soul. You'll find him in the waiting room just wasting time Fumbling in his pockets for some loose change
His shoes are even older than the chip upon his shoulder You'll find him easily bribed. He really feels that detante is a dirty word He'd gladly throw a spanner in the skoda You've got to catch this guy before he reaches
Chou-en-lai That's him succinctly described Oooh heavy breathing he's out of control Oooh heavy breathing he'd sell you his soul
