| There’s an ache creeping through my bones
|
| And a lake of blood filling my home
|
| I don’t have the time to mess around
|
| There’s a dog sleeping in my bed
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| If I tickle his balls he gives me sweet head
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| So I don’t have the time to mess around
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| You can send me flowers, but I won’t arrange them
|
| You can call me on the telephone at a sensible time
|
| There’s a beast and he’s banging on my door
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| All my teeth lay scattered on the floor
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| I don’t have the time to mess around
|
| I’m done with the non-essential tasks
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| Oh and the making of a thing that cannot last
|
| I don’t have the time to mess around
|
| You can send me flowers, but I won’t arrange them
|
| You can call me on the telephone at a sensible time
|
| You can send me flowers, but I won’t arrange them, oh no
|
| You can call me on the telephone at a sensible time
|
| You can call me on the telephone at a sensible time |