Eleven o'clock on a motorway it wasn't very nice, still raining    Spied a man he looks away, I never liked him much no conversation   Skills went on a quiz show once, and nearly won, encyclopaedic   Sunday drive to birthday lunch, had an argument, they're car sick      Oh, shiver on to your own front door   So much to get back for      Clumsy, clumsy aren't we, dressed in paper   And holding hands with gloves on   Eyes in comedy shades      We're clumsy aren't we, wrapped in paper and fears   Can't pay attention when you've got glue ears      Seven o'clock on a motorway, she isn't going out she's only   Visiting Dad who was locked away   Now he just recites lines from movies   Kid in the back is eating flies   Wish his mother didn't dress him funny   She still sighs still dots her eyes   With little hearts she worries