My life is comfortablenBut I don't want that image for my bandnInside I'm reasonablenBut I'll make out they just don't understandnWhen we don't feel well, let'snPut on some VelvetsnLean our guitars up against the ampnnWe get feedbacknWhen I feel that I need thatnAir of look, aren't we dangerousnThat's the time to feedbacknnIntense, no compromisenNasty evil, cracking up my brainnHey, honShe's gone to Spain with a load of mates from worknnAnd I feel cursed and sore, likenI'm Thurston More-likenThe darkness in my eyes won't go awaynnI get feedbacknIn my bedroom in NantwichnStamp my foot down on the amp switchnThat's the time to feedbacknnSomebody's knocking on my doornAnd it's the boy from over the roadnAnd he says he shares our obsessionsnAnd he'd like to join in on the sessionsnAnd the others aren't arsed either waynSo I saynnI think we'd better let him innI've heard he's got a thereminnI think we'd better let him innI've heard he's got a thereminnnAnd I've seen him walk through the park a lot,nAnd I bet he listens to Arc a lot,nnWe'd better let him in, he's got a theremin...