in quiet streets
Singer:sleaford mods
out of date barrel fluids
i go large for a pound and regret it
a sharp contrast from my newly adopted organic nice mate
easy variety is the lie of life
just a lonely collection of moose-face bastards
miliband got hit with the ugly stick
the chirping cunt obviously wants the country in tatters
we're not fucking cannon and ball
the hum of the traffic lights
i can't eat any more bought in cakes
that taste like koala waste
i pick blackberries near the old contact centre
the smell of late summer in spring
advancement is only regarded as a good day in the money shop
nowhere money in nowhere land
but in the old days you had to lead a group of men up a hill
and got 'em shot by the locals mate
we put our souls in nursery for the day
try 'n get 'em in bed tucked up before 10 o'clock
the new church donation.org
the virtual soap box in the park
the rulers don't care it's still the 70's
and they laugh at our ugly double denim
we are the wooden horses on wooden race courses at fairs
the top prize is damaged organs and nobody cares
death before your contact extension
they will assist in matters that don't fucking interest you
mumbling procedure over the phone into ears that are having a seizure
the seizure isn't actually a physical crack
it's your body trying to take itself back
rules on mules in backpacks
over mountains that only exist in your mind trap
guest ales called mother of ruby
i ruined my first pint of abbott getting two of those fucking things in mate
battered in a blanket of cheap meat
i been on line since 2006
my login is jason-wants-to-know-why-he-can't-fuckin'-log-in-keith
they can sort the problem
of bitter minds on seats with pints
of bitter minds on seats with pints