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Sphere of spleen on the sofa,
my life is going nowhere,
either there or a dystopia.
Paralympian doper,
paralytic coper,
professional loafer,
semipro croaker.
Looked in the mirror,
the day is getting nearer
I give George Roper
good run for his lira.
ITV3, life now I see
thru prism of a sitcom from the 70s.

Curled up into a ball, hoping for the best.
When I was a foetus I must have been depressed;
last time I remained in position long as this, like
Kelso's hunchback suckling Ms.Pacman's breast.
Curled up into a ball, praying for the end.

Local prophet of doom
made me his gopher,
said I show good prospect
as a real no-hoper.
But I need a reboot,
I need a blacksuit,
more Toby than Topher,
moviestar moper.
But it's end of an era
in supergrass mirror,
I give George Roper
good run for his lira.
ITV3, nostal-algae;
Mildred, won't you run me bath of G'n'T?

Curled up into a ball, hoping for the best.
When I was a foetus I must have been depressed;
last time I played possum as long as this, like
Humpty Dumpty got laid by the angel of death.
Curled up into a ball, praying for the end.

I've abandoned hope like all ye who tune over to ITV2,
but I don't want some hoochie geordie, I want my Mrs.Spoon!
It's hard enough to make it with a couch woodlouse lounge act,
wallowing in my naval, dark side of belly button moon.
Chuggers for the rapture ain't no reason to get dressed,
and the Mercury Advertiser don't merit my Sunday best.
But Mrs.Spoon, dang, like a mild mustang  
(overbite like gawky Mildred's) masticating on that freedom,
my kneehugging gloom's bolted!

Better than I ever hoped, you & I spooned up in a bubble,
them latchkey demons can't dent our snuggle-spubble.
Better than I ever hoped, curled up into a ball with you.
Better than I ever hoped, a bubble is a ball for two.

— The End —