Useless

Useless has a brand-new way of being defined
Look it up you’ll see my face all pale and bland
Glass nails in my pocket and a chocolate teacup in my hand
I’d like to sit with you, at least until the tears are gone
But my stiff British upbringing just tells me to put the kettle on

I stand there, put my head in my hands and open up my mouth
But all I do is crack a couple of bad jokes
The kind I’d use over a pint of lager with some Football blokes

Just a couple of bad jokes

The kind I’d use at a party I’ve attended on my own.

20 past eleven never seemed to feel so late
But an evening in stunned silence
Sets the clock to a deathbed heart rate
I stand there with half a cork in my hand
Hoping red will take the edge off and complement the bad

Then all I do is crack a couple of bad jokes
The kind I’d use over a pint of lager with some Football blokes

Just a couple of bad jokes

The kind I’d use at a party I’ve attended on my own.