Love Is a Bourgeois Construct

I’ve been taking my time for a long time
Putting my feet up a lot
Speaking English as a foreign language
Any words that I haven’t forgot
I’ve been thinking how I can’t be bothered
To wash the dishes or remake the bed
What’s the point when I could doss instead?
I’ve been hanging with various riff raff
Somewhere on the Goldhawk Road
I don’t think it’s gonna be much longer
'Til I'm mugging up on the penal code
Love is a bourgeois construct
So I’ve given up on the bourgeoisie
Like all their aspirations, it’s a fantasy
When you walked out you did me a favour
You made me see reality
That love is a bourgeois construct
It’s a blatant fallacy
You won’t see me with a bunch of roses
Promising fidelity
Love doesn’t mean a thing to me
Talking tough and feeling bitter
But better now, it’s clear to me
That love is a bourgeois construct
So I’ve given up the bourgeoisie
While the bankers all get their bonuses
I’ll just get along with what I’ve got
Watching the weeds in the garden
Putting my feet up a lot
I’ll explore the outer limits of boredom
Moaning periodically
Just a full time, lonely lay about
That’s me
When you walked out you did me a favour
It’s absolutely clear to me
That love is a bourgeois construct
Just like they said at university
I’ve been taking my time for a long time
With all the shadenfreude its cost
Calculating what you’ve lost
Now I’m digging through my student paperbacks
Flicking through Karl Marx again
Searching for the soul of England
Drinking tea like Tony Benn
Love is just a bourgeois construct
So I'm giving up the bourgeoisie
Until you come back to me
Bourgeois, Bourgeoisie
Bourgeois, Bourgeoisie
Bourgeois, Bourgeoisie
Bourgeois, Bourgeoisie
Bourgeois, Bourgeoisie
Bourgeois, Bourgeoisie
Talking tough and feeling bitter
But better now, it’s clear to me
That love is a bourgeois construct
So I’ve given up the bourgeoisie