Spilt Beans (John Peel session) Songtext
von John Cooper Clarke

Your secret′s out you shouldn't trust those men
They′ll do you dirty with the tricks
And with the dead body having to split your spine
If you're not his, well watch my line
Late home, no TV, don't have to like it
But you′ve got to agree on how putty′s about
That you've been mean and it′s no good crying over spilt beans

All the fancy dams at the Palady dance
Offer you assistance in the firm's vans
With their stupid stories, bad dream lovers
Do it in the dark, do it under covers
Ghost train smashes in the tunnel of love
Horny hands in a boxing glove
When found on Lovers′ Lane you see
It's no good crying over spilt beans


Middle class mystics know better
Vacant vegetable soup stained sweaters
Finger bells and balls that swing
Like they was in some kind of sling
You get paid back with the laid back look
Prayer wheel and a big fat book
Telling you not to be clever but clean
And close to the meaning of the spilt beans

And the three stooges, the four just men
The magnificent seven and the terrible ten
Lord Rockingham′s eleven and the famous five
Three men in a boat and their good lady wives
Twelve apostles and the fiddlers three
Ten green bottles and the three degrees
And all the oval teenage beauty queens
Cry about everything but spilt beans

Three days late, you can't hide
The wife swapping and the suicide
You make groovy gravy or mother of meat
Since we wed all I do is eat
Too fat to front, sorry 'bout that
I′ve got a scrotum fitted with a thermostat
You can twitch in the kitchen, giggle and scream
Don′t let me hear you, spilt beans