Fuckings greatest hits
par The Blood Brothers
lyricscopy.com
Ring out the gong again!
Carve out this hymn in skin!
When the party blacks out again
you´re still eating headlines out of the newspaper bin.
Slap the gong again!
Carve out this hymn in skin!
[Refrain]
Happy birthday gelatins smearing bruises on your chin.
There´s cake but no mouth, conch but no sound,
glossy skeletons boyfriends but no friends.
Ring out the gong again!
Carve out this hymn in skin!
When they´ve pissed between every sheet of your father´s bed
those tears have barcodes waiting to be scanned/scammed.
And when they´ve hurled every gutted couch cushion
from the living room into your fathers swimming pool,
you´re bobbing chlorine apples in the broth bucket of envy´s gruel.
[Refrain]
Happy birthday gelatins smearing bruises on your chin.
There´s cake but no mouth, conch but no sound,
glossy skeletons boyfriends but no friends.
Ring! Ring! Ring out the gong!
Son now you´ve made it to the top of their list.
Congradulations your fucking´s greatest hit!
Behind husks of leather, photo albums sheild their laughter.
You thought they´d make you breakfast the morning after?
Your fantasy season gangrened off the calander.
Carve out this hymn in skin!
When the party blacks out again
you´re still eating headlines out of the newspaper bin.
Slap the gong again!
Carve out this hymn in skin!
[Refrain]
Happy birthday gelatins smearing bruises on your chin.
There´s cake but no mouth, conch but no sound,
glossy skeletons boyfriends but no friends.
Ring out the gong again!
Carve out this hymn in skin!
When they´ve pissed between every sheet of your father´s bed
those tears have barcodes waiting to be scanned/scammed.
And when they´ve hurled every gutted couch cushion
from the living room into your fathers swimming pool,
you´re bobbing chlorine apples in the broth bucket of envy´s gruel.
[Refrain]
Happy birthday gelatins smearing bruises on your chin.
There´s cake but no mouth, conch but no sound,
glossy skeletons boyfriends but no friends.
Ring! Ring! Ring out the gong!
Son now you´ve made it to the top of their list.
Congradulations your fucking´s greatest hit!
Behind husks of leather, photo albums sheild their laughter.
You thought they´d make you breakfast the morning after?
Your fantasy season gangrened off the calander.