Lyrics

Hate wide for dog breeder In the town of the port Never seen dog breeder This is the tale of his replica Name was J. Temperance Only two did not hate him Because peasants fear local indifference Pet shop and the vet, Cameron One night vet is called out From his overpaid leisure To Temperance household, their limit ran out And phoned his wife in terror The next bit is hard to relate (There are no read-outs to this part of the track.) The new born thing hard to describe Like a rat that's been trapped inside A warehouse face, near a city tide Brown sockets, purple eyes A bed with rubbish from disposal barges Brown uncovered no changeling As the birth was witnessed Only one person could do this: Yes, it's Cameron And the thing was in the Impression of J. Temperance This hideous replica