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)