lyrics
Rush hours turn the knuckles white
Fists so tight they're gelignite
Slowcoaches in every lane
Ankles aching with the strain
Sick to death of frozen deals
Can't describe the way you feel
Rant and bitch, scratch that itch
Slap the steering wheel
Dazed with drink, kitchen sink
Every plate is broken
Pussyfoot, keep it shut
Tons of shit unspoken
Spick-and-span, non-stick pan
Fingers all sleepwalking
Chug-a-lug, yank the plug
Scratch that itch again
Parking is an endless race
Someone always in your space
Early birds in every nest
Leaves you feeling so depressed
Sick to death of yellow lines
Knackered meters, instant fines
Gripe and bitch, scratch that itch
Have a proper whine
Togs all in, rinse and spin
Watch the world go round and
Bleary-eyed, tumble-dried
Feel the heat inside and
Lift the load, ironing-board
Let the steam push through and
Fold the skirt, hang that shirt
Scratch that itch once more
Going up is coming down
Flattest crowd in all the town
Faceless farts on every floor
Hit the button, close the door
Sick to death of splitting hairs
Half-baked bollocks, manic glares
Moan and bitch, scratch that itch
Next time take the stairs
Do some good, scrape a spud
Soon the lids are rattling
Piles of greens, butterbeans
Yorkshire pud and crackling
Nice and hot, hits the spot
Happy as a dumpling
Cut the crap, lift that pap
Scratch that itch away
credits
from
What We Do,
released May 1, 2015
Written, arranged and played by THE SPECTRAL PRiDE .
Recorded, mixed and mastered by The Knobster at The Bunker.
Produced by Mr Reindeer.
Artwork: Frank Blunt.
© & ℗ 2015 Bollockbrain Productions; released here under a Creative Commons Attribution Non-commerical Share Alike licence.
A Genuine Bollockbrain Product.
Artwork and lyric booklet are included when you download the complete album.
license