Hanging about and you'll stay no doubt
With your tongue hung out
With your sung not shout
In the folds of the sheet, in the flat of the pleat
The milk of the teat or the pants of the seat if you will
Shocked and enthused by your yesterday's news
And your role as a muse
In a robe that you dis'd on a whim
Of a sketch of your hair in a bun
Your stature undone and unbuckled of knuckles and limbs
Moved and abused by the craft of a stitch
A son of a b**h or a ba*tard that's bred just to k**
It aghast in the sail of a mast
That's forcing a fast
On the strike of a hunger to fill
Stretching to last with your arm on a cast
A half-finished task and a bucket that's filled to the brim
Of a cup that's been drained its remains
The half that's poured out is the song that we shout, let's begin
The sun is melting the bu*ter
It melts into the ground
The paper sticking together
It doesn't make a sound
The sun is melting the bu*ter
It melts into the ground
The paper sticking together
It doesn't make a sound
Hanging about and you'll stay no doubt
With your tongue hung out
With your sung not shout
In the folds of the sheet, in the flat of the pleat
The milk of the teat or the pants of the seat if you will
(x5)