[Chorus x2]
It seems like certain people need to slow down
Sit and zone out, but they don't know how
They're burning loads of pounds
But I'm in no doubt
Burn the candle both ends
It'll get blown out
[Dr. Syntax]
Can you really see Synners
Getting down to some big-cheese business?
Every month, holding more than three figures
I've seen that scene
And that scene seems vicious
Keen-witted mean-spirits
Fiending for riches, me
I couldn't deal with it
I'll sooner be seen swimming
In deep rivers wearing concrete slippers
It's wrong that I should feel privileged when
Given a fleeting glimpse of free living once my weeks finished
Maybe I'm one of those weak quitters
But I can't work all day
And only rest for fifteen minutes
Eating TV dinners
Steady trying to keep diligent
Thinking of my annual beach visit
So ask me what I'm doing instead, just
Scooping a bit of bread and bu*ter
While pursuing interests
And you might think I'm stupid
As a foolish inbred
Used to sittin' on a stoop
With a group of pissheads
But it's rare that my mood is intense
'Cuz I created a relaxing ambiance
Without using incense
So accuse me while using a pertruding index
'Cuz it's true that I'm a loser
With his future in shreds
But I produce a sick text
When I use a Bic pen
Something in me ticks
Like a superhuman sixth sense
Observing life through a thick lens
Watching steadily
Using time to rest
Thus preserving my longevity
[Chorus x2]
[Mole]
It's Tuesday night, man
I'm craving spliff and hot food
But not more than pound a drink
And sh** pop tunes
A lot lost to the work-drink work-drink
Puzzled punters glugging jugs
To make the words fit (What?)
A [double] something always
Tugging at the purse-strings
And now they're sloppy 'round the edges
Like a first kiss
I'm not the worst; it's
Just a casual pastime
Nothing serious
Just here to drink the bar dry
Chuckle at our troubles as they shrink into the dark night
Follow my reflection as it's sinking
With my last pint
We're on the brink of being
Victims of the far right
But can't resist because we're
Twisted by this fast life
I drifted in from last night
Thinkin' how it's
A little bit odd that we see time as a commodity
When if a man was lost at sea
Without a clock to read
Imprisoned by his prophesy
Allowing his return upon
Accomplishment of odyssey
He could quite possibly
Arrive to find the hand had only moved from one to three
Think about it logically
Or don't if you're too busy
But choose quickly
'Cuz pretty soon they'll be selling special
Seconds of your life online for 2.50
Who's with me?!
Nah, I thought not
'Cuz then you'd have to slow down
And if I'm really honest with you
Then I couldn't go now
Just leave with no sound
Like this life was worth nothing;
All possessions thrown down
Possessions thrown down
Possessions thrown down
Possessions thrown down
Possessions thrown down, down, down