Spastica

And we will enjoy ourselves…
You have got to enjoy your music
Elses there’s no point in doing it. OK?
1, 2, 3, 4

A morbid fascination with all things in extreme
A limited sport will leave its spot on me
Early in the morning, I’ve given up on sleep
I’m in need of attention but all I hear is my heart beat

His spastic aspirations will make a man of me
Brought him for displaying such sensitivity
The monsters of the present are monsters of the past
Took a look in your lyric book, your head’s right up your arse

It’s unbelievable, the way you got it all

The inner city fauna is crying ‘round your feet
I never really noticed how your eyebrows seemed to meet
In perpetual fear of being swallowed whole
Beached in the suburbs in the body of a whale