Zen Baseballbat - Bananas

A table for three inner city lickers;
A sweaty back, bum slack, sun glass stripper
A fat knackered fire eater
With a burning scalp
A two toned, two faced peeling photogenic
Banged up in a sausage skin
And eats like a bucket
Where's the crapper?
They're ready to order
Ready to murder
A braison elephant paddling in batter
Two galloping gonads
And the next man's earlobes
Mines a grated brick
And a ballbuster special
Seasoned with a banana skin
My gastronomic exit
Fly there's not enough waiters in my soup
Soup
Two sore fingers in fluent anglo turd
Whitey downs his verse
What's for desserts?
A sombrero'd blancmange
Look at me snaps sunshine
His best belching punchline
That's me next to the camel
Full of eastern promise
Swallowing the waves
Of the Brit brick rules
Boiling in a pan
Of continental food
Swallowing the waves
Of the Brit brick rules
Boiling in a pan
Of continental food
Swallowing the waves
Of the Brit brick rules
Boiling in a pan
Of continental food
Fly

Written by:
CARL GLEAVEY, GARY GLEAVEY

Publisher:
Lyrics © O/B/O DistroKid

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