Lyrics
I come from a land of kebabs and curries
Second helpings, no worries
Pile the carbs upon the plate
Then one day, it's too late
No breakfast, no luncheon
Just carpets I'm munching
A thimble of self-esteem
Glazed nothing for afters, an absence of laughter
The saddest that I've ever been
You just can't be portly, not this side of 40
Showbiz, a single chin game
Scum paparazzi's and weight police nasties
Have narrowed the hall of fame
No one likes a fat pop star
Pop is a place for the thin
No one likes a fat pop star
We want to hear thin people sing
When I get faint, I chew through my restraints
It's the best meal that I've had all week
If I could eat my own words, I'd tear through the verbs
But nobody pays me to speak
No one likes a fat pop star
Pop is a place for the thin
No one like a fat pop star
We want to hear thin people sing
Now you've upset me, I feel like a snack
A packet of Minstrels, a pie and a nap
So what's wrong with that
No breakfast, no luncheon
Just carpets I'm munching
A thimble of self-esteem
Glazed nothing for afters, an absence of laughter
The thinnest that I've ever been
Thank you
Credits
Vocals
Robbie Williams
Written By
Robbie Williams, Guy Chambers, Chris Heath
Band
Dave Catlin-Birch (Bass Guitar)
Dave Hartley (Wurlitzer Organ)
Frank Ricotti (Percussion)
Gary Kettell (Percussion)
Guy Chambers (Piano, Lowrey Organ)
John Parricelli (Guitar)
Ralph Salmins (Drums)
Stephen Henderson (Percussion)
