Here are my two favourites, to get the ball rolling:
Elvis Costello - Man Out Of Time
So this is where he came to hide
When he ran from you
In a private detective's overcoat
And dirty dead man's shoes
The pretty things of Knightsbridge
Lying for a minister of state
Are a far cry from the nod and wink
Here at traitor's gate
'Cause the high heel he used to be has been ground down
And he listens for the footsteps that would follow him around
To murder my love is crime
But will you still love
A man out of time
There's a tuppeny hapenny millionaire
Looking for a fourpenny one
With a tight grip on the short hairs
Of the public imagination
But for his private wife and kids somehow
Real life becomes a rumour
Days of dutch courage
Just three French letters and a German sense of humour
He's got a mind like a sewer and a heart like a fridge
He stands to be insulted and he pays for the privilege
The biggest wheels of industry
Retire sharp and short
And the after dinner overtures
Are nothing but an after thought
Somebody's creeping in the kitchen
There's a reputation to be made
Whose nerves are always on a knife's edge
Who's up late polishing the blade
Love is always scarpering or cowering or fawning
You drink yourself insensitive and hate yourself in the morning
John Cooper Clarke - The It Man
Look who it isn't, it's, the 'It Man' maybe.
The physical description fits, 'It Man' baby.
You had a Julia Ceaser haircut,
Middle market leisure wear,
but don't let him be your teddy bear...
could be 'It Man' ...baby
You want women, wall-to-wall
'It Man' got.
Meet the man who started it all,
'It Man' got.
What's it to to be then John?
A brunetto, or a bleeding blonde?
The tell-tale tongue of a two-ton taste bomb,
Is the kiddy coming on?
Like the 'It Man' baby.
Take the sugar. Dump the crumbs.
It's a mugs game.
Take some bugger for a lump sum,
and bugger off to Spain.
An endless stream of fizzy drinks for 'It Man.'
Who's dentures gleam like sovereign cuff-links,
'It Man' baby
Who drove the van?
Some all purpose also ran.
When the shit hits the fan,
Who's gonna carry the can?
He's after all your stuff
His motto is... 'receive.'
Too much is not enough now,
Let's not be naive
Drip-dry, zip-fly, 'It Man.'
Kiss the girls and make them die, 'It Man' baby
Underneath that yellow shirt,
Beats a heart of solid dirt
The most disgusting man on earth, 'It Man' baby.
No back chat was ever written
for It Man's 'tart.'
The cute cat or the stiff kitten,
'It Man' took her apart.
He shook away the poison pen,
Next thing... 'News-at-Ten.'
Ladies and Gentlemen... 'It Man'
Well well, bloody hell, 'It Man.'
Checking you out and ringing your bell,
You better quit man.
He's walking around, taking names
Looking for money in the burnt remains,
All stories finish in flames for 'It Man.'