The incasndescent children fly away,
Among this dirty cloudy day
And as their bones crumble and fall,
Their spirit glides amongst us all
Can the dragon swallow it’s phlegm?
Dropping to his knees he counts to ten
Surely this creature is cast aside,
whilst the shadows of the children hide.
Burnt-nosed-fat-face can’t get a burger,
His ears be blocked; there’s no way he heard 'ya
Swimming with all the cold dead signs
Of a tape recorder whilst it rewinds.
Knicker-bocker screw-fix turns a blind eye,
Ghastly-gobbed cunt-slut slaps her thigh.
Is there a point to this, may it ever end?
Probably not, you wasted your time, let’s not pretend!