Spare me from the drunken heathen
Gormless bores in superdry
Most unclean and most unwelcome
Like a field of blighted rye
Where were you?
Where were you in mid July?
Though they boost the congregation
Joy turns swiftly into pain
Arms aloft, their fingers pointing
Haunting me with their refrain
What's it like?
What's it like to see a crowd?
Open not the main church entrance
Let them think it's been postponed
Every year, the same old gobshites
Left to me, I would have them stoned
#hmhb
“Children of Apocalyptic Techstep”
A growing trend for people nowadays to say
Don’t let my funeral be morose in any way
And I, I, I, I, I will always hate them
I ask you now please
Rock of Ages Cleft For Me
….
Too many psychopaths
Not enough cycle paths
Too many psychopaths
Not enough cycle paths
“Shit arm, bad tattoo”
If you’re going to quote from the Book of Revelation
Don’t keep calling it the Book of Revelations
There’s no “s”, it’s the Book of Revelation
As revealed to St John the Divine
See also Mary Hopkin
She must despair
You’ve got a shit arm, and that’s a bad tattoo