You know, me and my baby, no couple like us
She's got her Sartre, we got our Camus.
I love her 'cause I hate the stinkin' bitch
Oh she's like a train, or a horse, I forget which
Who cleans the home?
Jean-Paul Sartre?
Simone de Beauvoir?
I'm the outsider, I break the law.
But here's a tip the book's a bore
Oh I'll take responsibility for my innermost wishes
Oh I'll be buggered if I do the dishes
Who cleans the home?
Jean-Paul Sartre?
Simone de Beauvoir?
Now my baby's left me, she's walked out the door
Says she don't want my six-inch gold-blade no more
I'm aware that one never really knows other
Stuff existentialism, I'm going back to mother

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