Lyrics Bloomer - Secret Band

Bloomer

I ain’t no fool
I cook the nuggets in the oven and they taste so good
That’s why I put 'em in my stomach
If you shake your fist then it won’t do nothing
If you shake your fist then it won’t do nothing
Yeah, I ain’t no fool
I’m petting puppies every day, please stay out the pool
I’m really worried bout your suede
If you shake your fist, then it won’t do nothing
If you shave your fist, then it won’t do-
I’m in all black, you can’t act
Don’t aim for the brain, you spinal tap
They can’t laugh or raise flags
Just suffer under weight of finance
Shilling for the center of nice
Looking for twice my type, some sort of innocent devil
Similar to good ass bread
It might feel soft to be dead and not really that awkward
Don’t become the father of a ladle
Have to scoop up soup filled with poop and pebbles
Don’t become a bird-ass horse
You’ll probably peck at a corpse and then fly through a meadow
I’m awake on an unimpressed star
I know who you are, you’re the feigning hope
The flailing rope you’ll hang yourself from
Was it fun running towards the sun?
I hope your problems fade away and solve themselves for you
Cause that’s the type of thing you’d say, you know not what it do
No more meaning, I’m receiving
That’s not healing, just revealing
What you have to lose
I’m in all black, you can’t act
Don’t aim for the brain, you spinal tap
They can’t laugh or raise flags
Just suffer under weight of finance
Its a style that you can’t undo
Your life’s the flu, thrown down the loo
Lies ain’t soap and they can’t save you
Amazing stuff, I’m so proud I can’t thank me enough
I ain’t no fool
I cook the nuggets in the oven and they taste so good
That’s why I put 'em in my stomach
If you shake your fist then it won’t do nothing
If you shake your fist then it won’t do nothing
Yeah, I ain’t no fool
I’m petting puppies every day, please stay out the pool
I’m really worried bout your suede
If you shake your fist, then it won’t do nothing
If you shave your fist, then it won’t do-
Shilling for the center of nice
Looking for twice my type, some sort of innocent devil
Similar to good ass bread
It might feel soft to be dead and not really that awkward
Don’t become the father of a ladle
Have to scoop up soup filled with poop and pebbles
Don’t become a bird-ass horse
You’ll probably peck at a corpse and then fly through a meadow
I’m awake on an unimpressed star
I know who you are, you’re the feigning hope
The flailing rope you’ll hang yourself from
Was it fun running towards the sun?
I hope your problems fade away and solve themselves for you
Cause that’s the type of thing you’d say, you know not what it do
Shes the bottle I’m the cork
We’re an icy pillow fort
I’m some soup and shes a fork
We’re poised to knock it down
Nothing will replace it
I’m only trying, only trying
Not to run away, but I don’t wanna stay