Terry Is The Chicago Sun

Terry walks and talks and meets and greets and eats what he sees
He's photographed in swimming pools and jacuzzis
His wedding ring conspicuously missing from his left ring-finger
Close-ups ensure that we don't miss what the article laboured to spell out

Trivia dominates the headlines
He drinks red wines when he dines with anybody but his wife
Who knows what they see in him through their pound-sign'd eyes

Bingeing and swinging in his kitchen
“Diet or die, terry” read the chicago sun
Run, terry, run
And terry will spin in his gravy when he sees what's in tomorrow's chicago sun
Run, terry, run

He's in the autumn of his years
But with a spring in his step-
His wife's left him now, he's moving in the new brunette

Divorce settled on the moors
Rather than through the courts
And it'll be serialised for working class eyes

Now terry's rotting in his jail cell
There's no mention of him in the chicago sun
Run, terry, run
But maybe if he hangs himself he'll make one last front page of the chicago sun
Run, terry, run