It's pissin' me right off, the selling of
Pashminas and the paid-for taxi journey home
As long as you are okay....that's the main thing
The sun's flares burn for you, that is good
But the content smells like a packet of
Cooked noodles, yummy yummy
C'mon Paul, c'mon...you know
You are the main man, or should i say the
Mains man, the man who sorts out
The fuse box in emergencies...Oh God
How did so much dependency
Establish itself?
Take such a grip?
We'll never last
Will we ever?
Since she moves, the best memories are
In the bleak colourless paths home
It will always be this innit?
I'm allergic to the news and to the arrogance
Of the Egyptian elite, the community spirit is
Strong and is a fixed response also, phrasebooks
Are useless as they don't tell you where you
Can get weed, nor do doctors-in-the-making
In southern Africa, dancing at pre-wedding festivals
And decorating food with tinsel and stuff
Sounds like i wanna' go
Amusements and theme parks and
Institutes of actuaries, it's all too much
It may well be fun for you
But it ain't gangsta' for me
I can tell you
I was in places other than...
My head was three different ones
I had my thesis binding to sort out
My hands shook...still do
Pretending not to go, no-one was a
Friend of mine, so c'mon
So c'mon, so c'mon
Your hand has been in mine four times
Gas
So c'mon
We are sulphur dioxide
We are phone nos. on scrappy bits of paper
We are comfortable...aren't we?
We are just protecting ourselves
Our heartz just...well mine just
Meltz