Half Man Half Biscuit
Half Man Half Biscuit
Half Man Half Biscuit
Half Man Half Biscuit
Half Man Half Biscuit
Half Man Half Biscuit
Half Man Half Biscuit
Half Man Half Biscuit
Half Man Half Biscuit
Half Man Half Biscuit
Woke up this morning, found myself in bed
My knowledge of the blues is somewhat nil
I’d dreamt about a love affair in far-off Budapest
The sort of thing that sugars every pill
I was a teenage armchair Honved fan
I went dans la cuisine in a bilinguistic mood
And Morphy Richards popped up with the goods
I was feeling ‘Hungary’ both this morning and last night
And with an appetite like that you see the woods
I was a teenage armchair Honved fan
Is this the bit where we’re supposed to make guitars collide
And is this the bit where we release all that raw energy
And is this the bit where we go crashing through those barriers
Like what they do in music mags?
I was a teenage armchair Honved fan
I was a teenage armchair Honved fan
I was a teenage armchair Honved fan
I was a teenage armchair Honved fan
I was a teenage armchair Honved fan
I was a teenage armchair Honved fan
I was a teenage armchair Honved fan
I was a teenage, wham bam thank you
I was a teenage armchair Honved fan
I was a teenage armchair Honved fan
I was a teenage armchair Honved fan
I was a teenage armchair Honved fan
I was a teenage armchair Honved fan
I was a teenage armchair Honved fan
I was a teenage armchair Honved fan
I was a teenage armchair Honved fan