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AnthillofArseholes
03:04
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worm your way through the tube up the anthill of arseholes gawping at their shoes like you have some kind of divine right to
round in the ant death circle there's some bad lad in front to follow loops-and-traps maze see the end of days in the back of someone's shoulder blades
tearing them a new one every morning
waking up on a hiding to nothing
cannot stop that slop bucket of eyes apouring down upon your face
down blackfriars bridge the thames has swollen to a globus she's not worth her wait in shit she's as small as an acorn
tearing them a new one every morning
waking up is a hiding to nothing
cannot stop the slop bucket uploading up your face
can;t get no satisfaction unless i string you up and do time gut every slum landlord and put an end to your family line
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old man bent into a gibbet from where his head hangs shuffles many streets but cannot change the view condemned to stare square right into his shoes
old boy he lost her indoors six months to the day sleeping down the slats hanging off his stick prodding at the pavement to check it still lives
you silly soft sod i was once like you in the street throwing up living without fear i stuffed my liver with beer it's what you do it's what i did but those vanishing lines only lead you here
old fogey embalmed in ten layers of darkling grey they only know when you're dead he gasped behind those nets
"there's just nothing left in my shrunken stomach"
you silly soft lad i was once like you chasing skirt in a dark bar
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