Good for Nothing

He works so hard with no holidays
But all his clothes are tailor-made
His mother said: "Son, you've got it made
Well you had it made yesterday
But now it's all for nothing
Good for nothing"

He goes to bed with a lava lamp
Beds full of books, hair still damp
His father said: "Son, do well at camp
You'll be a champ not a tramp
Not a good for nothing
All or nothing"

But I was a cocky sod
And Johnny was a northern mod
And we ruled the world
I wore a velvet cloak
It looked like a fucking joke
But it pulled the girls

I got a job on a market stall
We sold Roxy Music, the one with Jerry Hall
My stepfather said: "Son, you've got it all
So just have a ball
Until you fall into nothing
It's good to be nothing"

But I was a cheeky git
And Johnny nearly had a fit
When I stole his guitar
I found a new place to stay
And a hippy who could teach me to play
So I could be a star

Then I was on the BBC
And Johnny was looking at me
That must be fun
I wore a tartan suit
I thought I looked pretty cute
But now I think what a cunt