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No more stinking crippled children or aisle blocking pregnant women No more slackers wearing trackies like there’s nothing left to lose Move your ass old man with the walking frame that shits me And every shopping trolley full of nappies and dog food. Annoying little girls who think I wanna see their tramp stamps: Pull your pants up seven inches, pack away the Muffin Tops Lose the mid riff or the burger, there I’ve said it, am I bad? All I want’s a café coffee; I say this is where it stops. Big Muffin Tops This is where it stops that’s my footpath, you gimp legged age hog that’s my bus seat, crazy woman sweat tank that’s my table, you penny counting old fossil that’s my air (your breathing), you muffin top love-handled teen skank Big Muffin Tops This is where it stops You’re blocking all the cafés and suppin all my latté’s Drinking all my bottled water The Focaccia has gone Clogging up the pathways Parking in my carspace Is it still manslaughter When you were all forewarned? Big