With a face like a crabs bus ticket
And skin like a Lamas door mat
He was always gonna struggle
Nature had seen to that
He dreamt of those old fashioned movies
Where Bogart gets the dame
But a lorry load of Lorre
Is still the score of pain
And he sings,I may be ugly
La la la
But Ive got the bottle opener
He may be fat but hes got the cork screw
La la la
And in the party party politics of ugly fame
La la la
There is no ugly queue
La la la
With a chin like a tramps jukebox
And eyes like a rhinos ash tray
It was always going to be pantomime
That made him sing and dance anyway
When you feel like London
And you look like Hall
You think Travolta pulled Newton John
La la la
Who did John hurt Paul?
And he sings I may be ugly
La la la
But Ive got the bottle opener
La la la
He may be fat but hes got the cork screw
La la la
And in the party party politics of ugly fame
La la la
There is no ugly queue
La la la
And they compliment the compliment
La la la
And its driving you insane
La la la
Its like talking to a helicopter
La la la
When you know that youre a plane
La la la
Breath like a mountain goats satchel
Nose like a pool of sick
But you always leave your flies ahoy
La la la
Cause the world wants to suck your dick
La la la
Let it suck
And he sings I may be ugly
La la la
But Ive got the bottle opener
He may be fat but hes got the cork screw
La la la
And in the party party politics of ugly fame
There is no
La la la
There is no
There is no
La la la
Is no ugly queue
La la la
Incomprehensible