Made

I got uncles who never came into my room at night,
With six gold teeth for a smile,
I got a limited edition electric filofax
And a wine-optic on the fridge,
I got a gun for shooting cans,
I got a packet of tobacco making a racket in my pocket
Wondering whether it'll last me these three days,
I got sums and percentages
I got a phone that does all that, too
I got a pint of beer and rough guts,
Man, I got a boneless belt,
(If you don't know what that is, lookit up),
I got a wearable dog house
And an anti-bandit bag that shoots taxes
I got the mattress that relaxes
I got a constant reminder of who attacks us
I got Job
I got Principle
I got National Insurance Number
I got it made, man.

Man,
I got fourteen different ice cream choices
I got a peace pipe
And a terracotta roof,
I got no recollection of the names of the girls that I met at bars,
I got forty five classic cars,
I took their jobs, man,
I got a nuclear sandwich toaster
I got a solid-gold pair of laces
I got a garden golf-set
And more epithets,
A miserable coward in the boot of my car,
A teevee headed manservant
A contracted slave in nylon
Who's been getting to know my bedroom ceiling.
A gun that's for the birds outside,
And more,
An electricity and steam powered monkey torturer,
I got Needs
I got Urges
I got Prison Tattoos on my face,
Man,
I got it made.