Urine Mate (Welcome To The Club)
"People places parties J
You already got me started mate
Bout the cunts in the arm-label coats
Looking at me like they want to slit me fucking throat
Anyway, you ain't got a clue
Stopped wearing that in '92
Making me on edge, will ya wedge?
Here cocks, don't call me gobby
To you, it's just a hobby
To use your fists
Anyway, I'm enjoying me sen
Your life ain't worth living, you fucking prick
So leave me alone and get on with it
People places parties, in a bit
(belch)
Now just cause I look a bit different to you
Handle it, and go back to your crew
Cus without em you're shit
One on one, cunt, handle it"
SPECTRE!
I seen Roxy Rob puttin his bin out
At nine o'clock this morning
And all the people from Mapperly Park
Point and laugh cause he's pissed
And stinks of urine
Urine mate! Welcome to the club!
Get the private dancer with the
I ain't successful either
Fuck it!
Let's roll around in pig shit!
Hang around down Coral
Watch the pimps kick seven barrels of shit
Out of the women
"What have I done to you?"
"Shut your mouth and stand where I fucking tell you to!"
?
?
The stench of El Doctor
He dangles his victims from the legs
Of his helicopter
Fucking idiot
Do ya think riding around on a BMX
Is going to make me feel intimidated?
Smash yr face, cunt, back into next week
Along with the three snakes around your
Babylon feet
Urine mate, welcome to the club!
Urine mate, welcome to the club!
Urine mate, welcome to the club!
You get the private dancer from the ready ?
The only phone on the road is chlamydia ridden
Phlegm stank where the fuckers sell
Processed peas as weed
It's cold when I look out my window
Another local pub burned down
To the ground
I hate those fucking Motown nights anyway
Its Jive Bunny meets Lucy fucking Pinder!
Oh nice
I've got a hoopla and I'm gonna
Fucking swing it at you
Let's aim bombs at the licensee
Let's aim bombs at the licensee
Rip one up to the toilet seat
With the Lethal Weapon on the ?
?
?
Urine mate, welcome to the club
Urine mate, welcome to the club
Urine mate, welcome to the club
Urine mate, welcome to the club
You get the private dancer from the ready ?
McFlurry
Music for the masses
I'm out classed here mate
Inbetween the tashes
And splash out on shit
I'd better get a penny farthing
And Marvelous Marvin
Slam dunk with a concrete record deal
It's bound to sink
Under the blue rule
Where the cuts make people stink
You smell
People look like emails
Wide smiles
Shut down shops couldn't walk the paper trails
And in-house fighting
Gets the Tom, Dick and Harry smiling
Boris Johnson and the Cheeky Girls
Shut down the underground
So it's back to orgies on the buses
Drop us a fiver mate
No worries
One pound 29 on shag all
McFlurries
McFlurries
McFlurries
McFlurries
I'm gonna wee in a basin
Unleash a horrible looking vampire like James Mason
Clip the ticket
The clip-it-tick-tick
Now let me through the fucking gate you boring tit
What's wrong with this
It's all too much
Wobble wobble wobble
Ah get out of it
Wobble wobble wobble
Ah get out of it
Wobble wobble wobble
Ah get out of it
McFlurry
McFlurry
McFlurry
McFlurry
I got a Brit Award
I got a Brit Award
I got a Brit Award
I got a Brit Award
No surrender
No surrender
Animal
Five-day bender
My Jampandy
Hate's a bit of a strong word
As I bump into your sorry ass in the park
As I'm pushing my little girl
But what else can you do
When presented with a fucking idiot like you
I get a latte at the French-style cafe
And a croissant and jam
Sit down, and try to fucking forget about it, man
I hate that bland shit
That bread top nice tits
That Ian McCulloch white boy
Bore me fuckless terrace bit
Long drawl and calculated arm movement
Has been silent partner at the back
Giving fucking blessings
To up and coming twats in Macs
And your job made you more confident
Like a bruc in feathers and a beak
You got a big mouth
I fucking hate ya
Always avoid a cunt like you on the streets
The man is a wanker
The man is a wanker
He don't get much better
The man is a wanker
The man is a wanker
He don't get better
Physically past it, passed attacks
Do you want a facial cavity
Courtesy of my jampandy?
You fucking cunt
I'll have a 32 inch waist in raw denim
And stick 'em in the freezer, done
I have got years on ya
While you got belly on me
In a belly competition, mate
You'd win easily
Hands down, with a side profile
Matching that of Gordon Brown
Always at number 10
Always getting beaten by nine other men
Ain't ya?
Moving up in the world doesn't mean
Using the lift, mate
"What floor do you want?
Don't mind me, I'm in the
Fucking thing all day, ee!"
The man is a wanker
The man is a wanker
He don't get much better
The man is a wanker
The man is a wanker
He don't get much better
Torn apart in all your glory
Friendships established
You fucking bore me
Shit wafer, shit ice cream
The ice cream man did time
For obscene behavior
So why haven't you?
Why haven't you suffered
Like you fucking should do?
Boo-boo, boo-hoo
Crying inside, sarcastic upfront
Did I do something bad to you
In a previous life, you cunt?
The man is a wanker
The man is a wanker
He don't get much better
The man is a wanker
The man is a wanker
It don't get much better
The man is a wanker
The man is a wanker
He don't get much better
The man is a wanker
The man is a wanker
It don't get much better
For you
For you
For you
For me
For you
Fizzy
The cunt with the the gut and the Buzz Lightyear haircut
Callin' all the workers plebs
You better think about the future
You better think about your neck
You better think about the shit hairdo you got mate
I work my dreams off for two bits of ravioli
And a warm bottle of Smirnoff
Under a manager that doesn't have a fuckin' clue
Do you want me to tell you what I think about you, cunt?
I don't think that's a very good idea, do you?
You pockmarked four-eyed shit-fitted shirt, white Converse
And a taste for young girls
Don't send me home with a glint in my eye
I told my family about the fuckin' wage rise
And got fucked on
Devoured
Puked on
And sucked up
You fuckin' fly
The suction on your fly feet
Kept me pinned to the blinds
Whilst your PA rattled out e-mails
Workstation, forced to engage in flirtatious conversation
Fizzy
Fizzy
Fizzy
Well, just to keep the job
Just to keep fuck all from turning into a fuckin' nothin' blob
Bang it out, go on, tell me what you really think
You got no chin, an' you got no balls to chin 'em with
Glass panels separate you
The mid-price handwash from the bin of used
Public toilet paper towels
We've run foul of the hidden hatred
That festers in dogs like you
Tripwire taut that makes way for the vacuum
Ya piece of fuckin' shit
My name
Fizzy
Fizzy!
Fizzy
Use the sheet of promise and the red shoes of Dorothy
Blanked out on the bed of thick monotony
With the usual stereotypes that fall for the lip
I fuckin' hate rockers; fuck your rocker shit
Fuck your progressive side, sleeve of tattoos
Oompa Loompa blow me down with a feather
Broken dagger bollock
Fizzy
Fizzy
Fizzy
Fizzy
Donkey
Hold on, hold on
More rock 'n' roll, what a con
Silly little leopard skins on
Let Paul sing his songs, songs, no
Hold on, hold on
The dead streets' forth night song
To the sound of the spit from my tongue
And the ballroom blitz went wrong
Revolution
Revolt BPM
Revolt
And then, no
Hold on, hold on
Hold on, hold on
Hold on, hold on
Hold on, hold on
Hold on, hold on
White collar bollock sing along
Champagne road got a stone
The seaside donkeys don't run, no
Hold on, hold on
The dead streets' forth night song
To the sound of the spit from my tongue
And the ballroom blitz went wrong
Revolution
Revolt BPM
Revolt
And then, no
Hold on, hold on
Hold on, hold on
Hold on, hold on
Hold on, hold on
Donkey
Revolt BPM
Donkey
Revolt BPM
Donkey
Revolt BPM
Donkey
Revolt BPM, BPM
PPO Kissin Behinds
Plenty people outside
tellin' you that you don't need it
Plenty people outside
tellin' you that you don't need it
But you will, and you do, and you always will
Plenty people outside
tellin' you that you don't need it
I get the feelin' sometimes
I'd better watch how I speak my mind
There's plenty people outside ... kissing behinds
You laugh at me, I don't care
I got all my greasy hair
I got a clueless idea
Killing me man
Plenty people outside
tellin' you that you don't need it
Plenty people outside
tellin' you that you don't need it
But you will, and you do, and you always will
Plenty people outside
tellin' you that you don't need it
You fell out with the timing right
we got lost in the powdered night
we played dead cos we wanted to
now the life don't seem to notice you
Now the life don't seem to notice you
Now the life don't seem to notice you
I get the feelin' sometimes
I'd better watch how I speak my mind
There's plenty people outside ... kissing behinds
Plenty people outside
tellin' you that you don't need it
Plenty people outside
tellin' you that you don't need it
But you will, and you do, and you always will
Plenty people outside
tellin' you that you don't need it
Shit Streets Runny
I used to be a part of that door swings open, swagger to the bar crew
Saturday start at four, get fuckin' nailed down The Oak
Fly into the city in my techni-coloured dream coat
Stories told all night about a Rambo-style attack
On any fuckin' asshole in a sheep shagger's mac
I lived my file on an empty tank
Full of shaggy tit wank, blankety blank
And I always made sure the fuckin' contestants got it wrong
Bow, bow
I fill the frightening void with a chirpy attitude
Good as gold, I'm a nasty bastard in stage tights
And mate, I tread the boards
And I'll bring the fuckin' curtain down with my uneducated hordes
I used to be shit streets runny
I used to be shit streets runny
I used to be shit streets runny
I used to be
Attention to detail, attention to detail
I need a fuckin' bath, you ain't no road-runner
You ain't no shoot, shoot the runner
Shit take on it
Meanwhile, back at the crap cave
I trod on my cape by mistake
And fell into the fridge, mate
I fuckin' hate Northern Soul
It's like Motown's on the dole
And the Housing Benefit bouncers ain't happy with the inspection
Brian Eno, what the fuck does he know?
Doodling away with a fuckin' alien haircut mate
Head louse, I built a swimming pool in my living room
And I called it Deep House
You're so edgy, mate
You're so edgy
Crap bands, I play to a crowd of no-one but have got loads of online fans
I'm cynical, mate, yet bitter
I post horrible messages to successful musicians on me smartphone
Fuckin' Twitter
The dew on the grass in the park
Slap me round the face
I woke up, what the fuck you doin' in this place?
It's not the wankers or the misplaced weaks
The fuckin' dodgy roofers, mate
The Wage Don’t Fit
Don't ask me to carry that cage, stay longs hours, it don't fit the wage
Minimal work, it fits the arrangement
Sod extra sweat and out of town placements
Weak tricks, crap tattoos and spotlight kids
Put the 'til away, shop got ram-raid mate
Small, small
Small talk about nothing at all
While you got a sun-tan and I got what?
A piss pot, and we all get a free cream cake on a Friday
It's like school with a bottle of full fat milk down your throat
Get them government antibodies
Turn us all into young offenders, lifers and fucking taxi drivers
When I said I didn't like it, that's because I really don't
I put the 'til away, get out the van mate
We're gonna ram-raid you
A-when I said I didn't like it, that's because I really don't
I put the 'til away, get out the van mate
We're gonna ram-raid you
The wage don't fit
The wage don't fit
The wage don't fit
You've got to be able to sell yourself, so I stuck my life on eBay
25 pound, mate, scratch the lager spot on my chin
I'm hungry, I'm worrying, I'm Tintin
I'm the dodgy sailor, I'm that sweat freak from The Kills, Jamie
Do me a fucking favour, Banal, Banal, Banal, let down your long hair
What's in it for me? A fucking ladder?
It's serious, of course, it fucking is
Do you think I've ignored fame and fortune for the fucking fun of it?
Smart price, dice-man attitude, throw dice, smart price
Obscure, no anthems round here, just concrete, chips, a dirty sausage
A three pound bunch of flowers, 62, 79
I got fucking jumped, wankers, concrete dagger swaggers
The glint from the blade bounces off the Ice Arena, diarrhoea
Nine-plus confidence killer, your mug and my timing
It dead brick wood filler, wall plug driller killer
I want a bounty, where's your bastard bountys?
When I said I didn't like it (oh, shit) that's because I really don't
I put the 'til away, get out the van mate
We're gonna ram-raid you
A-when I said I didn't like it, that's because I really don't
I put the 'til away, get out the van mate
We're gonna ram-raid you
The wage don't fit
The wage don't fit
The wage don't fit
When I said I didn't like it (oh shit)
That's because I really don't
Showboat
Minds of bitter if you want me
Minds a bitter every day
I ain't a showboat but you are
And I'll die spitting in green into your face
I heard that Rome was moved to London
I heard the monkeys hit the train
I ain't a showboat but you are
And I'll die laughing my tits off in your face
Showboat in the magazine
Showboat in a trendy fanzine
Showboat says I ain't got a lot
Shut your mouth, babe, and fuck off
Cheap Keith Richards in your bell-bottoms
And loads of models smoking fags
I ain't a showboat but you are
And I'll die with these eyes over these bags
I heard that Rome was moved to London
I heard the monkeys hit the train
I ain't a showboat but you are
And I'll die laughing my tits off in your face
Showboat in the magazine
Showboat in a trendy fanzine
Showboat says I ain't got a lot
Shut your mouth, babe, and fuck off
Showboat in the magazine
Showboat in a trendy fanzine
Showboat says I ain't got a lot
Shut your mouth, babe, and fuck off
I Don’t Wanna Disco Or Two
From a very large number of computer rounds
Making various assumptions
A-adopting various maxima and minima
There is in fact a terrible forecast of a breakdown of world society
In the first decades of the next century
The entertainment for the night
Watching a toilet, swimming in piss
Who's gonna tip it over the edge?
You get a prize for it
People ripped to shreds by the whip of exploitation
Are deadened, bleeding, you failed in expectation
I walk around looking at the toe rags with no money
Which one's gonna pop me?
Break into the house, nick the microwave
Stab me in the throat, use my aftershave, old spice fucker
Mediocre, mediocre
Mediocre, yeah, mate
I'm gonna blade you, fuck the maze
First blood, I put a bit of wet dog shit in your undugged tits
Scaly-faced boozed pricks
No experience equals no deliverance
I'm gonna tip your canoe
Copious bollocks, we wanna get high, and we wanna get loaded
And then we're gonna cry and moan about the fucker
I don't wanna disco or two
I don't wanna disco or two
World interiors and Baltic restaurants
Smile, veil food and wine
Eight pound on two pints
I got a fag off the barman
Moody Friday, stop trying to show off
It doesn't matter where I got my coat from, mate
You what? Look just fuck off
Rain, stain, callous
I want a pint and fight, I don't wanna improve my fucking life for you
You make more money out of my existence than I do
I dodge the small towners, the music scene, think they are shit bands
You're all wankers, grinder man bores
White funk snores
Good relationships with the industry donkeys and live down South
Talent forecasts, shut your mouth
I don't wanna disco or two
I don't wanna disco or two
Pukka pies, meal deal with a drink, five-ninety-nine
Pot-bellied promoters, cheap coasters
I can't get the fucking stain off
You know the song's shit, I like it, so what?
That's why I fucking wrote it
Blaise, make your cleg nuts fight the loo roll, mate
High, high, high fever
Pete Wiley dog shit, singer turner DJs
Fucking nonsense, just a quick quid
Useless like Rick Pete, slow death in Stone Island
Alcohol down the fucking orange tree
Strawberry fields forever, fucking
What dog shit?
Christmas log, jog on
Mystical face twat headlines
Look at the wise men sing
I'm flash, here's the ball, I beat your fucking soldiers up ming
I don't wanna disco or two
I don't wanna disco or two
I don't wanna disco or two
I don't wanna disco or two
£5.60
I left downtown in unwashed jeans
Chewin' off his ear in the plastic screen
We race by mate, I got notes
I got a high-pitched chirping throat
£5.60 get me by
£5.60, don't know why
£5.60, past midnight
He could've charged me twice the price
Right back at ya
Well, I heard rumors they get - ed up
And I heard rumors they don't give a -
And I heard rumors, I ain't really assed
Well, I'm pissed up, mate, and he's got a car
£5.60 get me by
£5.60, don't know why
£5.60, past midnight
He could've charged me twice the price
£5.60
£5.60
£5.60
He could've charged me twice the price
Situations
When the sun goes down on the town at night
Situations
Situations
When the sun goes down on the town at night
Situations
Situations
When the sun goes down on the town at night
Situations
Kill It Clean
We have to be, we have to be so small
We live our tiny lives, and all we wanna be is tall
We have to be, we have to be so small
We punch above our weight because the world won't take us all
The mouthy Mac man got a job on tellin' me
He's got his work cut out, so he better kill it clean
The mouthy Mac man got a job on tellin' me
He's got his work cut out, so he better kill it clean
Why do y'all sound the same?
I came to check it out
Why do y'all sound the same?
I came to check it out
I feel funky, I came to check it out
Why do y'all sound the same?
I came to check it out
Stinks to me, it stinks of all your pores
You got the bedtime stories, and I got the matchin' snores
Stinks to me, it stinks of high Heaven
You tried to pull a fast one, you pulled a clever run
The mouthy Mac man got a job on tellin' me
He's got his work cut out, so he better kill it clean
The mouthy Mac man got a job on tellin' me
He's got his work cut out, so he better kill it clean
Why do y'all sound the same?
I came to check it out
Why do y'all sound the same?
I feel funky, I came to check it out
Why do y'all sound the same?
Why do y'all sound the same?
I came to check it out
Why do y'all sound the same?
I feel funky, I came to check it out
Why do y'all sound the same?
Bored To Be Wild
I'm a trap worm spore, easy to achieve, hard to undo
Little Jack Horner's been sniffing all the glue and the pavements back to crap
It's a sign of a bus pedaling, engine trouble
It'll phases all but fucking deadly, it's hard enough, mate
Solve the clap
I'm not gonna fucking spell it out for ya, man
Bored nature, Adam's apple, loincloth, Sod the dross
It will eat you up 'til you ain't got a clue about anything, mate
Dross fate, why did I fucking say that, mate?
What ya on about, man? Jibber
Like a twat after a gig down the calf
Rubbing toothpaste between my fingers before I eat the ass
Spare room, she's out cold
Ooh, ooh, ooh, he does cross training, she works out
Will they meet and have fucking unparalleled tantric sex?
Bored to be wild
Bored to be wild
Bored to be wild
Bored to be wild
It's a grim life on the keyboards
As the dead skin piles up on the dirty inserts
Shift, wild guns of Afghanistan
Eight hundred feet up, they can't touch me, man
The winter warrior taking insurgents out the game
What power? Bombs away jim jaw, the Royals never abuse it
Bragging in an interview from Lauren Laverne, Your open fall
And the Smiths fans on six music
Six what? Six fucking ways to put people off
There ain't nothing getting fixed from the state tool
Put it back in your toolbox, you fucking idiot
The Golden Gates, the '70s concrete, mate, hate
Bored to be wild
Bored to be wild
Bored to be wild
Bored to be wild
Salad dressing logo restaurant, a clever partnership
A dining experience that results in your fucking money going in
Somebody elses sky rocket, ripped off with a promise of exotic dog shit
While you and your partner lick each other's fucking face off
John Travolta and you will know us from the Trail of Dead not fucking Mars Volta
Lots of daring, lots of walls that don't need to be fucking up anymore
Landmines, what you fucking ask questions for all the time?
Smash the drool of a month on the wagon, only to be tricked by the wisdom of sobriety
Ruining my off time piss with delusions about being some kind of menace to society
Bored to be wild
Bored to be wild
Bored to be wild
Bored to be wild
Bored to be wild