Time called,
it wants its watch back.

So too did love,
it wants its fake relationship back.

Literature left a message for you,
the book you stole should be returned.

Oh! You’ve just missed music,
it said that album you murdered is pressing charges.

Time called again,
just to make sure you got the message.

Check the machine,
there’s one from Platform Eight.
Bonfire night 2011 just hung-up,
it wants you to know never to return.

An email just came through,
from that film we knew every line too.

What was that,
you use people?

Oh! Politeness dropped by,
he said he’d like to slam every door he ever opened for you
back into your face.

Wait a second,
I’ll put him through-
it’s time, he wants to speak to you.

there are words crawling under my skin itching to get out

and dying to infest your ears, devour your brain

but I do not dare let that happen

some things are better left unsaid
(or are they)

so I let them eat me instead

She stole milk from babies
as she poured herself a gin
and sold off our resources
as she got beneath our skin
She broke up the unions
and told us such grand tales
now tonight four nations rise again
England Ireland Scotland Wales
we will raise our glasses proudly
and toast the ****** burning
cause once she's on the devils spit
that ***** is now for turning

There's a fight in the kitchen and
It sounds like a good one, an old one
Tried and true
I'm a kid in my room trying to drown in a book
But it's not working 'cause the pages are too quiet and your words are so loud
They make me sick so I
Close my eyes and go down
To the place where the shouts
Are nothing but strings of syllables and sound
Syllables and sound
Roots of words like weeds that hold down the ground