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In chocolate town all the trains are painted brown On the silver paper of the wrapper Theres a dapper little man And he wears a wax moustache That he twists with nicotine fingers As he drops his cigarette ash And someone comes and sweeps it up And then he doffs his cap And theres a rat in someones bedroom And theyre shutting someones trap And theyll soon be pulling down the little palacesAnd the doors swing back and forward, from the past into the present And the bedside crucifixion turns from wood to phosphorescent. And theyre moving problem families from the south up to the north, Mothers crying over some soft soap opera divorce, And you say you didnt do it, but you know you did of course, And theyll soon be pulling down the little palaces.Its like shouting in a matchbox, filled with plasterboard and hope, Like a picture of prince william in the arms of john the pope. Theres a world of good intentions, and pity in their eyes, The sedated homes of england, are theirs to vandalize.So you knock the kids about a bit, because theyve got your name, And you knock the kids about a bit, until they feel the same. And they feel like knocking down the little palaces.Youre the twinkle in your daddys eye, a name you spray and scribble, You made the girls all turn their heads, and in turn they made you miserable. To be the heir apparent, to the kingdom of the invisible.So you knock the kids about a bit, because theyve got your name, And you knock the kids about a bit, until they feel the same. And they feel like knocking down the little palaces.Little Palaces By Elvis Costello