Somebody
[E.Maguire]

If you’re not a money-maker
Then you’re never gonna be somebody
If you’re not a mover or a shaker
You’re a loser and a fake nobody

You’re no ordinary sinner
You’d have the devil round for dinner
If you thought you had a soul to sell
Hey hey, and he’d agree
That heaven’s all economy
You need a first-class ticket to hell
To be somebody

Cos you’re a fly high-roller
You’re no low-down dirty doler
Like the beggar never catching your eye
You’re too high from all the snow
Down the slopes and up your nose
You got the strut and sniff that says
Well I, I’m sombody

Somebody who knows the size
Of a social backside
And has a tongue that’s long enough to lick
Nobody would ever know
From the length of your nose
Your latest phone is the size of your

You’re not a pawn in a pocket
Or a number on a docket
If you want it then you’ve got it to show
Nobody would ever guess
That there’s a bra around your chest
Under the suit they made at Savile Row
Oh no, nobody

If the papers keep a diary
Of your stay inside the Priory
You know you’ve hit the top of the list
Hey, hey, you’ve got a cyst
And it’s the size of Satan’s fist
But you can’t stop
Cos you won’t be missed
When you’re nobody

If you’re not a money-maker
You’re never gonna be somebody
If you’re not a mover or a shaker
You’re a loser and a fake nobody