Here he comes, in the dead of the month   His hair falling out, his shoulders hunched   Secure with his Third World expectation   [...] open sewers of degredation   I hate his guts though we we have not spoken   [...] feeling? You must be joking!   The Lambourghini cleaner scowls   Everybody hates the holy mugger   Yeah, the holy mugger      I have to send this blacklist out   and watch these rakes crawl past my house   The silence here has driven me mad   Jihad, jihad, what the fuck was that?   The holy mugger   The holy mugger   The holy mugger      In a week, he's dead, nobody talks   but they never do--it was his own fault   His body's in the gutter, just the way he fell   We glower at the sight and ignore the smell   and it's closing time at the Shiatsu Brothel   and the rail track breaths a rickety rattle   The burglars drive their hearses home   The kids stay in and learn to speak in code      Who dunnit? I don't know. I don't know!      Here he comes, he never died   He calls the street [...]   and a whitewashed cap on a swimming peak   Find his fortunes on his feet   [...?]   I am now a [...?]   I'll accept that this is normal   [...?] it must be formal   The holy mugger   The holy mugger   The holy mugger   The libertine Nazi from hell!