I worked for future salary the nightshift in Spalding Street
The respect is worth it
1 AM at the front gate it had just been Sunday night
Stood this man, tall and twisted back
He spoke loud and said
Come out of there that grill on the wall contains a crowd
And that twisted shape you call the laundry post
Reminds me of my origin your crisscrossed fences are avenues
Paid for by the NHS, you need it more than the patients
For mortgage fees and medical pranks, but you won't fix my quartz chip
Or repair my broken kind, kindness borne of mousey brain
Twisted with kin of bitter world vicious dreams of EC1
And Lapland girls and green purse with tall and chaste inducements

The porter went to move the man
And we got back to practice time
But his hands went through the man
He was made up of liquid pitch
His legs two propeller sticks
Crisscrossed fence posts were his eyes
His mouth red like a twisted reich
His mouth like a twisted knife
He wreaked of bleach and hospitals
He wreaked of bleach and hospitals
The porter swears, this is true
He wreaked of bleach and hospitals
The porter swears, this is true
And drinks too much in his brown and white hut
But the thing clings to the acceptance gate
The thing clings to the acceptance gate
The thing clings to the acceptance gate
The thing clings to the medical acceptance gate
And nobody says he's seen it
It only bounces young MDs
We are dedicated
To fight disease
To fight disease
Disease
Disease