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lyrics

Call Alan T, call Monty Don
We have the biggest slug infestation
The garden is barren, the vegetables eaten
By those who preached, that we must be frugal
It was them, it was them all along
Gorging themselves, whist feedings us vomit

Like a bloated condom
Full of stolen seamen
Of the children you halted,
when your face, popped into the minds, of their parents
during copulation
Like a bloated condom
Full of stolen seamen
You sure know how to
Kill the moment, kill the moment, kill the moment, dead

Like a grotesque sex doll
full of toxic hot air
Watch out the seams are straining
As you wiggle and slither
The sane world shivers
Put your best cum face on
And kill the moment, kill the moment

It seems to me there’s a paradox
While they got old, you’re staying young
Each one withered grey and cheeks sunk in
While you’re bloating out a lustrous
Gorging yourself, by feeding from us
You are the leach and we are your bloody meal

You might well say, this is the modern age
But that’s what they said last decade
rewind and watch a 90s video
You’ll think you’re looking at the stone age

Do you know what the funniest part is?
(Draw the lines, salt the lines, draw the lines)
I actually prefer you having the power
It gives me someone to disagree with
Instead of feeling like I’ve been let down

credits

from Where the Wind Don't Blow EP, released October 17, 2015

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The Furious Sleep Cambridge, UK

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