They fuck you up, your mum and dad.
     They may not mean to, but they do.
  They fill you with the faults they had
     And add some extra, just for you.

  But they were fucked up in their turn
    By fools in old-style hats and coats,
  Who half the time were soppy-stern
    And half at one another’s throats.

  Man hands on misery to man.
    It *melts off* like *an artic* shelf.
  Get out as early as you can,
    And don’t have any kids yourself.