lyrics
i'm starting to feel sick.
writing is kind of like hook, line & sinker.
a big chorus ad infinitum:
"he can't cope with first person"
the revolving bookcase in the library with a lead pipe
dredged up from the village refuse dump the hamlet tip
walking home from the local pub across a motorway
and a road unimaginatively entitled "the street"
turnabout
turnabout
let me off this merry-go-round
i'm spending christmas on the internet
in a dirty dressing gown...
i'm ultimately unnessecary
it's just as well i can't fight for beans
or else i would be a nightmare.
it's just as well i can't fight for beans
or else i could be considered
some kind of bottom of the stairs monster.
it's just as well i can't fight for beans
or else i could be viewed as
some kind of two dimensional character.
like a begbie
justifying your outbursts with your own insecurity
you know this will only wash for so long...
you have to stop this oneupmanship
or revenge will eat you alive from the inside
take a deep breath... count to ten...
ha
fucking
as if you would think twice before resigning from your job?
you can stick your fucking job...
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