One! Two! Three! Four!   One! Two! Three! Four!   One! Two! Three! Four!      Any more tears for the birthing pool?   Bear this child directly into misery   Kiss him in the face with no lips and no tongue   But with your little, middle, index and ring fingers   Singing I see songs in shapes and colours   Like nuclear physics or pottery ovens   Fluid lines that soar like towers   Patterns reformed just like child actors      Plunge your hand, rip out my spine   Replace it with a UV light   So I can be the beacon of hope that you'd always expected      These constant broken heartbeats sound like breakbeats   Looping round and round to me   You know he's so much more like Spiderman than you will ever, ever be      So stick with your instincts   Stick with the imprints   With the hieroglyphics that the fan club sent us   And roll with the toppers   Just like steady choppers   Bat it with your eyelids   And lose it with your static   Go b-b-b-b-b-b-b-b - honeeeeey!   I'm taking far too many chances   On these less than idealistic romances      Plunge your hand, rip out my spine   Replace it with a UV light   So I can be the beacon of hope that you'd always expected      These constant broken heartbeats sound like breakbeats   Looping round and round to me   You know he's so much more like Spiderman than you will ever, ever be.