We are guilty
We are beyond hope
We beg to differ
We are a terminal case
Press darlings
Press darlings
Press darlings
Press darlings
Press darlings
We depress the press, darlings
We're on the outside
But we're not looking in
We are the vaseline gang
We don't play your little games
And if evil be the food of genius
There aren't many demons around
If passion is in fashion
Nick Kent is the best dressed man in town
Are we different? (no)
We are exactly the same
There are no boxes for us
The ones you love to hate, so read on
And if evil be the food of genius
There aren't many demons around
If passion is in fashion
Marshall is the best dressed man in town
We are the press darlings
The press darlings
The press darlings
The press darlings
The press darlings
The press darlings
The press darlings
The press darlings
The press darlings
The press darlings
The press darlings
The press darlings
Press darlings
Press darlings
Press darlings
And they told fibs

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