text: Sketchead is coming to your party
  Hes walking up your drive and hes swinging all his keys around
  Sketchead, hes seen you with your top off
  He already knows your boyfriend, retain your introductions
  Sketchead, that cumbersome protagonist
  The pips in your quince, the eye behind the spy hole
  The itch you cant itch in your ear
  And the knock that shattered your packet of peppermints
  Sketchead, theres poison in his spit
  Hell compliment your tits and leave you to your wits
  Sketchead, convincingly insisting
  The tyres were bald when you gave him the car
  Sketchead, still coming to your party
  Still walking up your drive and still swinging all his keys around
  On his finger as a pendulum to unnerve
  And then theres you, youve changed
  I approached you like you were the same
  But soon it was apparent a new name was required
  New lips went and fired accomplishments at me
  While Im captivated by your magazine skin
  The tint on your lenses obscures to begin
  And you know full well
  That anyone who says that they dont prefer the sequel
  Will still be swinging on themselves tonight