Every Englishman’s home is his castle, take a moment step inside,
Let me give you the comprehensive ear defensive audio guide,
Press one to activate the historical rhetorical facts about my life,
press more for info about the czars several departed wife’s,
Here by this baron sofa where the famous battle for the remote took place,
And their amongst the ashes of the electric fire grate,
Lies all the ambition of this abandoned desperate despots fate,
whose appeals to watch program’s with sub titles always came too late,
His desire to rule his kingdom by TV remote control alone,
Every Englishman’s castle is his home.
Every Englishman’s home is his castle keep moving look upstairs,
The turrets and the dungeons are in a state of disrepairs,
For this crazy ruler, this majesty wasn’t big on DIY,
His dandy effeminate cack handedness were better left unapplied,
He also had no blacksmith,
but then again he had no fucking horse, just paying the electricity on this place, was a kings ransom of course,
He couldn’t raise his subjects taxes,
for he was secretly a socialist king,
in fact this great world leader pretend didn’t own a fucking thing,
He powered his own Hoover,
across the two and a half bedrooms that he once roamed,
Every Englishman’s castle is him home.
Every Englishman’s home is his castle, where disputed worlds collide the facade slips,
the don’t give a shits,
mix with over chips and mothers pride,
where casual racism texted across divided opinion on current political affairs,
Where a demonstration of emancipation is to leave your underpants on the stairs,
The cook has left, the housekeeper, the valet and gardener none inside, the lack of imagination of this ruler drove them all to suicide.
This revolutionary loneliness this republic stance for sins to which I must atone
Every Englishman’s castle is his home. Alone.