Never mind Back to the Planet it's parents you go, when the Social's run out of money and the real world's not so funny, it's back to the parents you go when the water to your squats cut off, 'cause they've a great big house in Dulwich and they kept your old room in the big converted loft

In which you graffiti-ed quality wall paper with Greenpeace and anti government
slogans, you spent your giro on weed and cider and a thousand Hawkwind albums
You 've a book on Rastafarian roots culture that you've only half read and that poor flea bitten mutt on the end of that string well he'd be better off dead

Never mind Back to the Planet it's back to the parents you go, when the Social's cut off your money and there's no more baked beans for your tummy, it's back to the parents you go, when the maggots have chewed through your mattress and a house that was once okay is now full of holes and stinks of piss

And then there's the real homeless and their chance of a roof over their head, and now because of you well maybe they're better off dead. And as you lay in amongst your tie-dye bed sheets in amongst the stains, you still fail to realise your life amounts to nothing more than portaloo
remains

Never mind Back to the Planet it's back to the parents you go
Never mind Back to the Planet it's back to the parents you go
When the Social's run out of money and the real world's not so amusing
It's back to the parents you go when you can't afford to see your latest punk-pop-pap, ska, skank, wank revivalists

Never mind Back to the Planet it's back to the parents you go