| The cunt with the gut and the Buzz Lightyear haircut
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| Callin' all the workers plebs
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| You better think about the future
|
| You better think about your neck
|
| You better think about the shit hairdo you got mate
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| I work my dreams off for two bits of ravioli
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| And a warm bottle of Smirnoff
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| Under a manager that doesn’t have a fuckin' clue
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| Do you want me to tell you what I think about you, Cunt?
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| I don’t think that’s a very good idea-do you?
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| You pockmarked four-eyed shit-fitted shirt, white Converse
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| And a taste for young girls
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| Don’t send me home with a glint in my eye
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| I told my family about the fuckin' wage rise
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| And got fucked on
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| Devoured
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| Puked on
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| And sucked up
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| You fuckin' fly
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| The suction on your fly feet
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| Kept me pinned to the blinds
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| Whilst your PA rattled out e-mails
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| Workstation, forced to engage in flirtatious conversation
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| Fizzy
|
| Fizzy
|
| Fizzy
|
| Well just to keep the job
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| Just to keep fuck all from turning into a fuckin' nothin' blob
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| Bang it out; |
| go on tell me what you really think
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| You got no chin; |
| an' you got no balls to chin 'em with
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| Glass panels separate you
|
| The mid-price handwash from the bin of used
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| Public toilet paper towels
|
| We’ve run foul of the hidden hatred
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| That festers in dogs like you
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| Tripwire taut that makes way for the vacuum
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| Ya piece of fuckin' shit
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| My name:
|
| Fizzy
|
| Fizzy
|
| Fizzy
|
| Use the sheet of promise and the red shoes of Dorothy
|
| Blanked out on the bed of thick monotony
|
| With the usual stereotypes that fall for the lip
|
| I fuckin' hate rockers; |
| fuck your rocker shit
|
| Fuck your progressive side, sleeve of tattoos
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| Oompa Loompa blow me down with a feather
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| Cloak and dagger bollocks
|
| Fizzy
|
| Fizzy
|
| Fizzy
|
| Ahhhh! |
Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Jolly Fucker , by - Sleaford Mods. Song from the album All That Glue, in the genre Панк