Scrub the plates, wash your hands in fantastic style Heads turn in awe of their tremendous well-being I'll wear a scar from the sticks and stones As
Don't blame the rock and roll For our reckless youth or the hearts that we stole Don't blame the strings on my guitar For the drunken fights at the Weatherspoons
I've been working this steady job For a week long. With the nine to fivers Where I don't belong. It's a means to an end And it's not permanent. When
roll up my sleeves Because I've scraped the rust from the buckets 'cause they're yearning for his blood That fucking cunt, he'll meet justice Revenge is sweet, more secure than
I know my lyrics aren?t the best you?ve ever heard, But I say what I mean and I mean every fucking word. I?m sick of listening to narrow minded pricks
Our shoes are scuffed, our shirts are torn. No belts to hold up our jeans and the knees are worn. But we?re still alright, still going out tonight.
I?ve been collecting music for so long, today I turned on my laptop and it?s all gone. I opened my iTunes and it?s bare, I can?t find the albums I downloaded
In the back with the band after a show, When we know you shouldn't be there alone. (?) We want someone different, can you remember what I said, So the
Cries from the mouths of the dumb When the blind see the deaf hear the silence when we step on your lawn Knocking on the door shouting "Let's have some
Get Low. Lower Than Atlantis. Every Weekend (Thanks to Sam Woolley for these lyrics)