Scoop! Scoop!
Hallelujah, its morning
My execution can wait til after
I just dropped in, no-ones smiling
But "Hi"
I never took you for the sort to start flapping and
But aye
I don't want any pity from you
I don't expect any mercy for me
Na Na Na Na Na Na Na Na Na Na Na
Ohhhhhhh OHHHHHH OHH
To your house just to walk
I squint at red organic blur
(yes)
Love and jest
Then guess
Smells fresh
Where's next?
Not next to her
What was past tense
You could get stabbed in the neck
It's time to run from a man,
A poor excuse
Exchanges hands
The puppet claps
A final dance and I collapse
You whipped away the time
You did at great speed
With great speed I sank
I felt fleeced
I must be a sheep
I must be a sheep
How does that match up in comparison
To the twisted backward son, of Allan Addison?
I'll just do what I like
I'll never get anything done
I'll never do anything right
I'll just do what I like
Writer(s): Martin Johnston, Craig Mcmahon, Michael Griffin, Marc Rooney, Alex Sharples, Ciaran Mceneny
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