Song Lyrics

Mother doesn't go out anymore
Just sits at home and rolls her spastic eyes
But every weekend through the door
Come words of wisdom from the world outside

If you want to know 'bout the bishop and the actress
If you want to know how to be a star
If you want to know 'bout the stains on the mattress
You can read it in the Sunday papers
Sunday papers

Mother's wheelchair stays out in the hall
Why should she go out when the TV's on?
Whatever moves beyond these walls
She'll know the facts when Sunday comes along
If you want to know 'bout the mad punk rockers*
If you want to know how to play guitar
If you want to know 'bout any other suckers
You can read it in the Sunday papers
Read it in the Sunday papers

Sunday papers, don't ask no questions
Sunday papers, don't get no lies
Sunday papers, don't raise objections
Sunday papers, ain't got no eyes

Brother's headin' that way now, I guess
He just read somethin', made his face turn blue
Well I got nothin' 'gainst the press
They wouldn't print it if it wasn't true
If you want to know 'bout the gay politician (oh yeah!)
If you want to know how to drive your car
If you want to know 'bout the new sex position

You can read it in the Sunday papers
Read it in the Sunday papers
Sunday papers, don't ask no questions
Sunday papers, don't get no lies
Sunday papers, don't raise objections
Sunday papers, ain't got no eyes
Sunday papers, don't ask no questions
Sunday papers, don't get no lies
Sunday papers, don't raise objections
Sunday papers, ain't got no eyes
Read all about it, Sunday papers

Get your Sunday paper, get your Sunday paper, get your

David Ian Jackson