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I stole the bottle of gin from over the
counter and ran, I knew I'd been seen. I scarpered
stifling giggles down the street and hid round a corner
on a side street. I heard him huffing and the sound of
his big feet against the paving, he was getting close. As
he rounded the corner I sighted him up down the barrel of
the gun and on seeing his expression change to one of
horror + confusuib jerked back the trigger. His body was
jolted back by the force of the bullet + his feet flew
foward. I saw a bright little rivulet of blood are into
the air and I slid the gin into the waistband of my
trousers. CHORUS:
Who you fuckin lookin at?
Who the fuck you lookin at?
Who the fuck you lookin at?
Who the fuck you lookin at?
Is there really a thing like feeling too
much? Can you really escape + numb the real? There's a
way of saying, a way of sayin a shape - I feel a certain
shape and it's complicated it's not like a square or a
circle It's like crystal or diamond, it's clean, hard,
unfathomable and it ends in an augmental kiss It ends in
an augmental kissREPEAT CHORUS
Rock Stars are NOT cool They're full of
his guy they call satan, Kids stuff oozing from their
mouths. They wear the shoes of dead soldiers shot by
soldiers, valium horses trotting squeezing through their
rasberry blood. Sometimes I feel so stoopid I wanna quit
- get out of it 'cos I hate this world and everyone in it
- The fat Bald men who run it - the fat bald men |
