I'm sitting on the sofa, picking my toenails
Watching television Rambo three is on, oh boy
You come into the room, I think you might be talking
Your lips are moving quite a lot so you probably are
I think you might have just said “are you even listening”
So I nod reflexively, then you say to me
Blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah
You lazy little turd
Blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah
Have you even heard a word?
I say “what?” and you say “what did I just ask you?”
Which surprisingly I hear quite clearly and I haven't got a clue
I say “is this about the garbage?” You say “no, I put it out cause you never would”
I say, “that's good, ‘cause I hate doing the garbage”
You stand in front of me, I can feel your spit
You yell listen up baby, ‘cause this is it, and you say
Blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah
I'm moving to my sisters
Blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah
Then I notice I've got a blister… on my toe… the big one… maybe I should pop it
And three weeks later, I notice you are gone
Two months after that I get something from your lawyer
Three weeks after that I notice you are gone
That's when I remember that something from your lawyer, I try to read it, but it just says
Blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah
Furthermore and hereunto
Blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah
Enough of that, I'd rather sing a fugue
FUGUE
Writer(s): Adrian Clarke, Michael Mccormick, Chris Patterson, Trevor Strong
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com