lirik lagu jam baxter - 28 staples
(verse 1)
found one bullet that can penetrate angels
looking straight down at these 28 staples
see my age like a semi-buff unhinged b-tch in denial that could never stay faithful
got the wench in bed with my past with the rave crew bright eyes drenched in the dark
they were spewing out chewed up news from a few years back, can you hear that?
(bruv, where the beer at?)
seventeen teenage kicks to the cranium foot-long wound full of tough t-tanium
snapped arm swinging in the mediterranean, steps to developing the flesh of an alien
the perils of a rock-star spread with his brains ripped out
when the flames l1ck round the horizon
the shock set the sea alight freeing every demon i see at night
skipping on a wave of excitement
it’s strange
rip every plug from the mains
excuse my excuses delusional thoughts mix well with the numbness
a c-cktail best served dashed in the drain
so retreat, tie up the noose with your t–th
leap from the black and blue world at your feet
see ’em swing see ’em twitch, i was busy banging chicks getting f-cked with the freaks
and just when you think you surp-ssed mortality, master of all in a cardboard galaxy
the last black hole threw my p-ssport back at me, a border control handcuffed to reality
bleep bleep, shackle him
old men in hospital gowns stammering
it just takes one gallon of paraffin
to burn a whole planet of inanimate mannequins
and either, i’ll strike the match for you and back away a diamond encrusted creature or
we can all morph into plastic in shop front displays at the rave at the front left speaker
a second rate jesus with scarlet fever turns old single malt to bacardi breezer on the corner
and talks with a dark demeanor about that regression
eureka
(verse 2)
summertime and the living was simple, uncut bolivian and hideous crystal
star prize for the millionth ring-pull, if its gone too far give me a signal
taking care of yourself is a mugs game freeze in excitement and melt in the mundane
i’ll be right here, trippin’ out bobbing up and down
ripping out limbs and i wouldn’t make one change
well, well, well
i might make one
sh-t
stick around for the ice-age son, son
slip a bright tin on a soul-snapping par
yeah, sh-t, but never pick at that volcanic scar
stepping in a parallel dimension, filled full of maggots and their paranoid henchmen
an awkward exchanges by collard up cracks an amputee geeks at the grim-out convention
spill out the bedroom, tramp in a sl-t-suit swing for your outline, rape your reflection
a pig-headed chef force feeds an infection, a stump-toothed child with a six-figure pension
cue for the cheque, the wrinkles on the rips never suited my flesh
i was stretched on a next front page of the rocket fuel catalogue
smashed mirrors glued to my chest, high-v
still grimey, slumped in the stocks
funny how we all must’ve shrunk in the wash
but could never stay clean, forever eighteen
take 28 reasons to renovate, scream
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