King Bing - Babybird, Stephen Jones, Luke Scott

Oh you ugly beautiful thing

Oh you, oh you, oh you

You ugly beautiful thing i’m in between your head and your sting

Unfolding out your wings one by one 'til you sing like king bing, you

Oh you beautiful thing i’m in-between the ball beat ball of the king

Holding out no cheques, drinking castrol not becks

Plugging in tv flex into my kecks

I dare you to change the fucking channel now.

puts!

Ugly beautiful thing i’m between your head and your sting

Whirling out your wings one by one 'til you sing like king king bing

Ugly beautiful thing how i sing with your plastic wing on the tips of my broken

wing

Oh i’m so shy when you ride up so high and i cry because i can see the

possibility that you might one day die

Oh baby cool you know that thing, that thing you do that i love

You keep doing it, doing it, doing it, and i can’t get over that thing

That thing that you keep, keep doing, doing it, doing it, doing it drives me mad

I love it, do it, do it, do it, do it, ah ah ah ah ah ah ah ah ah ah ah ah ah

ah ah ah ah ah ah ah ah ah ah!

Calm down, son.

sing the fucker like a baby

Yeah mom, i’m bad

You ain’t a bad son, son, you’re a fucking king

You’re the son of god, you’re mine, i’m mary, i made you

I forgive you baby.

come to mummy!

Butt-a-bing butt-a-bang butt-a-bing butt-a-boom boom boom

Butt-a-bing butt-a-bang butt-a-bing butt-a-boom boom boom

Butt-a-bing butt-a-bang butt-a-bing butt-a-boom boom boom

Butt-a-bing butt-a-bang butt-a-bing butt-a-boom boom bang

King, the word king

Son, i call you a king, you ain’t poor paul king (?), you’re the king

Ugly beautiful thing i’m between your head and your sting whirling out your

wings one by one

Until you sing like a king bing

Ugly beautiful thing butt-a-bing, butt-a-boom

You ain’t butter, you ain’t harry, you ain’t even the artist formerly known as

prince

Ah, ah, ah, you’re a king, you’re a king, you’re a king, you’re a king

Ugly beautiful thing.

ugly beautiful thing

See what all that means is that blue is really yellow, you grow old, you mellow,

orange turns you on

It’s rust, it’s things rotting

It’s mike and the mechanics doing celine dion doing sting

Fony give away a hundred thousand cds to virgin, our price and all hmvs

Wish i’d thought of it, it’s so cool

It’s music for thick people, lowest common denomination

All hidden under the steeple, roof tiles and a hatch with weeds

Big tits and tight behinds

A guy on the hatch improvise and men who stack singles for £1.99

Get the fucker in the chart, charge £3.99

Take a cut off the supplier, off the artist, off the public, off the quick to

buy and slow to think

Hey that’s why.

you know i know

When will people realise that if you put shit on the dance set and spin it at

45 rpm, 120 bpm you’ll still hear it stink?

I’m out of here, whatever, amen

Ba da da, ba da da, ba da da

Yeah yeah, yeah, yeah

You ugly beautiful thing.

you ugly beautiful thing.

you ugly beautiful thing

You ugly beautiful thing.

you ugly beautiful thing.

you ugly beautiful thing

You ugly beautiful thing.

you ugly beautiful, beautiful, ugly, ugly, beautiful,

ugly, ugly, beautiful, beautiful, ugly, beautiful, ugly, ugly, beautiful, ugly,

beautiful, ugly, beautiful thing

Oh.

i’m getting into jamiraquoi territory now man

Fucking stop it dead now

Shut the drummer up.

shove it up the arse!

Saxophone — fuck off!

Yeah be bop be lula be bop boo, yeah

Wiggy wiggy whack whack

Wiggy wiggy whack whack

Wiggy wiggy wiggy wiggy wiggy wiggy whack

Whack whack wiggy wiggy

Whack whack wiggy wiggy

Wig wig wig wig wig wig whack

Bad jazz for white folks' assholes