Eric Portlock, he owns this shop
He sells stationary to young folk
He can make you a ruler, a rubber or desk
The only problem is they're made of flesh

A well known loner, who sleeps all day
He's nocturnal like a bastard
He grabs his victims on a Friday night
As they enter his chip shop

Where did it all go wrong?
Where did it all go wrong?
Where did it all go wrong?
Where did it all go wrong?

He'll peel your skin off and crush your bones
Twat your spine into a Blendtec
Remove your arsehole and break your nose
Turn your skull into an ashtray

He'll turn the length of your arm into a ruler
Oh yeah

Where did it all go wrong?
Where did it all go wrong?
Where did it all go wrong?
Where did it all go wrong?

This went on for 15 years before he was caught by a local bobby
He recognised a pencil of his as that of his missing wife
The biggest clue was the faintest tattoo, a tattoo of a heart that read 'I love you'
Now Eric sits all alone in a cell
Asking himself...

Where did it all go wrong?
Where did it all go wrong?
Where did it all go wrong?
Where did it all go wrong?