I was drunk in youth's womb, Hungover for years in this tomb. I hate the yellow veins in your green and pink face, I hate the hedgerows in your countrified lanes. Bright lights, Where the roads are paved with sh**e. A huge slag heap from an open cast mind, Keep walking away can't leave it behind. 56 by 3 or more or less, Like a family you're built to oppress.
EH prefix worse than a brand, You steal form me then you cut off my hands. A sick parasite, On the banks of the river sh**e. A hive where the reek of lies is auld indeed, Where bullsh**'s collected by rotting worker fleas. I know i can never ever trust this place, I see it in the mirror and my mother's face. Do i thank you for all? Or is a broken heart congenital?