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