| Found one bullet that can penetrate angels
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| Looking straight down at these 28 staples
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| See my age like a semi-buff unhinged bitch in denial that could never stay
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| faithful
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| Got the wench in bed with my past with the rave crew bright eyes drenched in
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| the dark
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| They were spewing out chewed up news from a few years back, can you hear that?
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| (Bruv, where the beer at?)
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| Seventeen teenage kicks to the cranium foot-long wound full of tough titanium
|
| Snapped arm swinging in the Mediterranean, steps to developing the flesh of an
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| alien
|
| The perils of a rock-star spread with his brains ripped out
|
| When the flames lick round the horizon
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| The shock set the sea alight freeing every demon I see at night
|
| Skipping on a wave of excitement
|
| It’s strange
|
| Rip every plug from the mains
|
| Excuse my excuses delusional thoughts mix well with the numbness
|
| A cocktail best served dashed in the drain
|
| So retreat, tie up the noose with your teeth
|
| Leap from the black and blue world at your feet
|
| See 'em swing see 'em twitch, I was busy banging chicks getting fucked with the
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| freaks
|
| And just when you think you surpassed mortality, master of all in a cardboard
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| galaxy
|
| The last black hole threw my passport back at me, a border control handcuffed
|
| to reality
|
| Bleep bleep, shackle him
|
| Old men in hospital gowns stammering
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| It just takes one gallon of paraffin
|
| To burn a whole planet of inanimate mannequins
|
| And either, I’ll strike the match for you and back away a diamond encrusted
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| creature or
|
| We can all morph into plastic in shop front displays at the rave at the front
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| left speaker
|
| A second rate jesus with scarlet fever turns old single malt to bacardi breezer
|
| on the corner
|
| And talks with a dark demeanor about that regression
|
| Eureka
|
| Summertime and the living was simple, uncut Bolivian and hideous crystal
|
| Star prize for the millionth ring-pull, if its gone too far give me a signal
|
| Taking care of yourself is a mugs game freeze in excitement and melt in the
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| mundane
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| I’ll be right here, trippin' out bobbing up and down
|
| Ripping out limbs and I wouldn’t make one change
|
| Well, well, well
|
| I might make one
|
| Shit
|
| Stick around for the ice-age son, son
|
| Slip a bright tin on a soul-snapping par
|
| Yeah, shit, but never pick at that volcanic scar
|
| Stepping in a parallel dimension, filled full of maggots and their paranoid
|
| henchmen
|
| An awkward exchanges by collard up cracks an amputee geeks at the grim-out
|
| convention
|
| Spill out the bedroom, tramp in a slut-suit swing for your outline,
|
| rape your reflection
|
| A pig-headed chef force feeds an infection, a stump-toothed child with a
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| six-figure pension
|
| Cue for the cheque, the wrinkles on the rips never suited my flesh
|
| I was stretched on a next front page of the rocket fuel catalogue
|
| Smashed mirrors glued to my chest, high-v
|
| Still grimey, slumped in the stocks
|
| Funny how we all must’ve shrunk in the wash
|
| But could never stay clean, forever eighteen
|
| Take 28 reasons to renovate, scream |
Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song 28 Staples , by - Jam Baxter. Song from the album ...So We Ate Them Whole, in the genre Иностранный рэп и хип-хоп