Lyrics Unsubscribe - Jam Baxter, Kate Tempest

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You left your face in the crotch of a bad night
Your morals are a flea-bitten rug on the floor and these people are lads mags
Speaking cliches in their glad rags holding back the flood, sandbags
It used to be alright round here, said Grandad
But now he’s staggering around and he’s looking for a Poundland
And all he found was ‘exposed' beans and no ketchup
Sriracha and eggs for twelve-fifty, etcetera
Bargaining with hardening arteries the marketing barks at us
It’s hard to trust anything asked of us
Gambling with nothing but a handful of temazepam
And strangling a mannequin for minutes before managing to extricate yourself
And back to business, back to dangling the carrot on the stick
Your teeth are rattling like tambourines
It’s an intravenous ambushing Adidas with the candlestick
Ripped between her fingers for the kiddies that believed it
Man, these imbeciles are leaders
And they’re quick to spread diseases when they interface and every other Beavis
on the internet is eager to be visible
Even in the middle of another metaphysical discovery, it’s pitiful performances
Slapstick, jack-of-all-trades and opinionated Autobots, an awful lot to say
Hmm
It’s so real when you skin yourself alive
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And all your friends say: «Skin yourself alive!»
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The receding hairline left the face tats hanging on his forehead on crags of
his skin shrouded in fog
Between the red wrinkles read, «LOVE, SEX, DEATH» in a child’s font
He stirred and murmured out to my squad…
His ghouls found him a job mopping the floors with his enormous absorbent eyes
Clogged with Insta models in shorts flogging the corpse of the rave with
daddy’s walking stick
Stop hogging the aux, man…
So here’s to the rabid dog on the porch, drooling at obese little piglets
popping their corks
That shoot for the city streets where children rob them for sport
Shoving in wet cement into every bottomless thought
We’ll line our arteries with all of you one day
Specks of fat splatter the skinny little alleyways round here
No one answers your ringing eardrums
Eye sockets set to vibrate…
So bell the delivery drug man for the third time and transform from starlet to
addict in the swing of a car door
Melted skin slop on the passenger seat fizzes and pops
We found God on the corner at half-four…
I thought you were hardcore in your barbed wire running shoes
Now you leave a telltale trail of blood and booze every time your muscles move
Skin rifles through a hundred hues and settles on swamp green, eternally
fitting…
And they became the insects drowning in their craft beers that barely crawled
out of the sum of her last year alive
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And all your friends say: «Skin yourself alive!»
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