Unstable stands aflush with fans
|
pilfered pies and pints in wobbly hands…
|
in the bowls of the bar two boys spar
|
don’t flinch an inch and territories marked
|
|
Oh I’d swear by my own cock and balls
|
and the family home’s four walls
|
|
There’ll be no treason this season.
|
The players they bask.
|
The boss he basks.
|
Just win the big match it’s all I can ask.
|
|
Darrell my son the bastards won
|
we’ve been lumbered with losing life for far too long…
|
the ground groans like the belly of a sleeping whale
|
don’t flinch an inch you’ll be released on bail
|
|
Oh I’d swear by my own cock and balls
|
And the family home’s four walls
|
|
There’ll be reason for treason this season.
|
The players are slack.
|
The boss has been sacked.
|
Just win the big match it’s all I can ask.
|
|
Woebegone with weeping
|
that sets you down to sleeping…
|
please canary, please be wary
|
the pit of a man’s heart is dark and scary
|
|
Oh are yer yellow with cowardice?
|
Or are yer yellow with jaundice?
|
|
A slap on the arse from my baby,
|
the hiss and the sting
|
and the mark of a ring
|
and the cold reality.
|
|
-----------------
|
Woebegone Wanderers
|
| Wild Beasts |
