Hate for Sale

Hate for sale Hate for sale He won't get hung or go to jail He's got a curly tongue and a curly tail But mostly he has hate for sale Call it luck or inherited title A guy like that is arrogant, idle He takes and gets whatever he likes Women, cars and motorbikes He dines on calves, butchered and bled Tankards of wine, burgundy red Handmade suits and shoes and socks Ooh, his breath could stop the clocks Ooh, here he comes He's so predictable Hate for sale Hate for sale He won't get hung or go to jail He's got a curly tongue and a curly tail He's got a curly tongue and a curly tail Money in the bank and coke in his pocket Porn all day, wanks like a rocket Teeth capped, ooh, he goes to the gym Chest waxed, ooh, I look like him