| I'm fit and working again | |
| Walk down the road in the sun | |
| I make a path through a forty strong gang | |
| I'm fit and working again | |
| My sick, think i've seen the tail end | |
| I'm fit and working again | |
| I used to hang like a chandelier | |
| My lungs encrusted in blood | |
| But the flex is now cut clear | |
| I'm fit and working, dear | |
| Took me ten years to write this song | |
| I'm fit and working again | |
| I used to think this bog was the domain | |
| Opinion is at most | |
| One stimulus reason | |
| If you've got the most | |
| With the true precis | |
| Analysis is academic | |
| Some thoughts can get nauseous. | |
| Sat opposite a freak on a train | |
| Warts on his head and chin | |
| Boy, was i getting so vain | |
| I saw the recession around victoria station | |
| I'm fit and working again | |
| Gimme the sun. | |
| I'm fit and working again | |
| And i feel like alan minter* | |
| I just ate eight sheets of blotting paper | |
| And i chucked out the alka seltzer | |
| Cause i'm fit and working again... | |
| Don't you know that was the tail end. |
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