the telly is red hot it s autumn in my loins there s glamour in them hills tonight all my ingrown time grapes of solid pain feed me to the door again trying to hitch a ride on a tinfoil deathstar my baby s trying to hitch a ride on a tinfoil deathstar people make demands it s hard to understand background hum at best right now holding back the light put down your batter ram calm your shaking hands tonight trying to hitch a ride on a tinfoil deathstar my baby s trying to hitch a ride on a tinfoil deathstar is that david clapson wincing through the glass a deck of death white sanctions firmly in his grasp type one type one it s a type one situation type one type one it s a type one situation