It's said that men look cool and hard,\\
When their faces are all bruised and scarred,\\
Not like some badly drawn cartoon,\\
Of a kid who's swallowed a balloon,\\
Or looked into a telescope,\\
The victim of a schoolboy joke,\\
But I don't care what people say,\\
That was how I looked that day,\\
Now everywhere I go it's changed,\\
Places that I know seem strange,\\
Every park or patch of green,\\
Looks like a future [[Crimewatch scene]],\\
Down every alleyway and path,\\
An ugly crime scene photograph,\\
Something deep inside me changed,\\
On the day that I became a victim.\\

A victim of a so-so crime,\\
[[Not worthy of a yellow sign]],\\
To match the bruise around my neck,\\
Changing colour as I slept,\\
Now there's a part of me that shakes,\\
With every car that overtakes,\\
The Jeremiah in my head,\\
Says everybody wants me dead,\\
Like the audience at a pantomime,\\
He tells me I should look behind me,\\
He says that I should run and hide,\\
Move out to the countryside,\\
"Just get yourself away from harm,\\
Sell the farm and buy a farm",\\
Things would never be the same,\\
On the day that I became a victim.\\

Everyone I knew was sure,\\
I should report it to the law,\\
I'd get financial compensation,\\
If I went to my local station,\\
But because of cutbacks staff were short,\\
And since what happened in new York,\\
"The police station", I told my friends,\\
"Only opens at weekends",\\
So in the year Charles Bronson died,\\
I got my bad self organised,\\
I bought a book on martial arts,\\
Enrolled in a karate class,\\
[[And I wished someday a rain would come]],\\
And wash the streets of all the scum,\\
Everybody says I've changed,\\
On the day that I became,\\
A victim in his early forties,\\
Unprovoked and unreported,\\
Looking for someone to blame,\\
On the day that I became a victim,\\
Everybody says I've changed,\\
On the day that I became a victim.\\