Our neighbours are perfectionists,
They've had builders gut their home,
Day and night the noise persists:
sanding and sawing - God we're pissed
off, And still they go on and on and
on like a dentist's drill; we could slash our wrists,
Our pleas for peace fall on cloth ears,
Rendering their lives new they cannot resist,
Till we phoned long distance and had our say,
Now they've being rendered to Guantanamo Bay.
