Every Day Carry

It’s chocolate chip cookie

Crappy crazy pizzas

Your haircut’s changed

It’s every day carry

You’re a gift to me

Nice party ice

You’re an individual cream bun

It’s chocolate chip cookie

Crappy crazy pizzas

It’s all good though

Look at that
Looks like good quality earth

I’m just a conduit
Don’t look at me
I’m just the medium

Your haircut’s changed
For charity

Can you imagine the rent?

I want big pearl

A people person
These are the eyeholes

A banging pasta bake
Müller corner, onions, orchids

The smear test blues

Put a shawl on that mannequin mate

Can you imagine the rent?

I want big pearl

It’s a light emitting diode
It’s a long nail story
It’s a dead hand tree

Best friends forever

It’s everyday carry

It’s bad luck if you’re the tree left at the edge of the motorway when they clear the forest for a motorway, you lose your friends and you’re exposed. You used to be in the thick of it, everything you knew ripped away
Two fingers up to you, you wastrel, that’s my shopping trolley you’re approaching

Uninviting, just body bits

Your haircut's changed

You’re a gift to me

Nice party ice

You’re an individual cream bun

Look at that

Uninviting, just body bits

Your haircut’s changed

I don’t know how I feel he’s fit but I think he might be

Residual Pop Rocks in the mouth of your cab driver

Drop what you’re doing, let’s get to the tip

Droopy flute solo comes in now
Galump lump

Huge white geese please us all

Major massive arsehole

All the children say I’ve got enchanted eggs

My beautiful restaurant

Let’s go, Jim

My beautiful restaurant

[Instrumental break]

Now it seems like none of that meant anything

A sugared armpit

A roast potato on a long branch

More spice

Plans conceived in love

A Ferrari with a license plate that says T337H

Bambino!

What a cruel heartless bastard you are

Welcome to hell

Keep up with it all, be nice, try to maintain high energy and don’t bring everyone down
In matching soft brown tank top

I just can’t creep comfortably anymore

Paper thin skin covers hands and hollow cheeks

Must I look at my belly in the mirror?
Must I belly in the mirror?

A thing in the past

Your own personal fatberg, homemade

I’m confused

Ready to cut loose

Sherlock Holmes Museum of break ups

Wait an hour for a pancake, make it larger, build it up

I don’t mind
I’m happy either way

I dunno
What’s the point

You actually smell like garbage

Every one of them looks a tit

I’m not gonna lie, it’s daunting choreography but I’m gonna bring it all the same

I just want to put something positive into the world but it’s hard because I’m so full of poisonous rage

It’s all well and good you saying that, but I need more

Keep up with it all, be nice

I just can’t creep comfortably
Curtains always closed