Running off over next doors gardennBefore the hour is donenIt's more a question of feelingnThan it is a question of funnThe confidence is the balaclavanI'm sure you'll baffle 'em goodnWill the ending reek of salty cheeksnAnd runny makeup alonennOr will blood run down the facenOf a boy bewildered and scornednAnd you'll find yourself in a skirmishnAnd you wish you'd never been bornnAnd you tie yourself to the tracksnAnd there isn't no going backnAnd it's wrong wrong wrongnBut we'll do it anyway cause we love a bit of troublennAre you pulling her from a burning buildingnOr throwing her to the sharksnCan only hope that the ending is as pleasurable as the startnThe confidence is the balaclava, i'm sure you baffle 'em straightnAnd its wrong wrong wrong, she can hardly waitnnThat's right, he won't let her out his sightnNow the shaggers performnAnd the daggers are drawnnWho's the crooks in this crime?nnThat's right, he won't let her out his sightnNow the shaggers performnAnd the daggers are drawnnWho's the crooks in this....nCrime!nnThat's right, he wont let her out his sightnThat's right, he wont let her out his sightnThat's right, he wont let her out his sightnnYou'll be able to post any day of the mostnFor the sights of all timennYou knew that it'd be trouble right before the very first kissnQuiet and assuming but you heard that they were the naughtiestnShe pleaded with you to take it offnBut you resisted and foughtnSorry sweetheart, I'd much rather keep on the balaclava.