He’s the sweetheart of the fearful crowd
And the candy doll of the broken shroud
Sugar-coated statue and you feed on
Security in numbers and you belong

 

Oh, Peppermint God sing sweetly to me
Don’t take off your wrapper
I seek him here, I sikh him there
Confucious say I’m a chocolate eclair !

 

Blackcurrant Buddha with his eight-tier cake
Sparkling knowledge from the lemonade lake
Nirvana nicely - free at last
With his fruit cake feeling and his buttermilk mask

 

Gooseberry Guru with their freelance fudge
Surrender all your smarties and it gets you good luck

 

When you’ve tasted away the treacle candy cover
Layer after layer and then yet another...
Real food at last so select your last supper

 

Lyrics inspired by Bradley Bowen