I’m the personification of fingernails grinding down a chalkboard
The moment when you’ve got to tell your girlfriend why she just got a cold sore
Walking into doors or in love with your mum in law
Almost as frustrating as your team drawing 4-4
Every time I try it with a girl it’s the friend zone
Fumbling the pass in the Superbowl end zone
Tried to pay by cheque to sell my soul to the devil
But it must’ve bounced cos now I’m the equivalent of Phil Neville
And this is what I’m saying, every day I’m praying
‘Please get me laid before I’m in the ground and I’m decaying’
Playing on my mind in a way that’s a sign
I’ve got to do something worthwhile with my lifetime.
I’m commando on the day you’ve got PE,
Weeing in a pool and it going bright green
No tact, pure fact, what the hell is that?
I got a hard on in my speedos at the swimming baths
Doesn’t it make you go…?
Doesn’t it make you just cringe?
Don’t you just want to tear your eyes out rather than watch me try to win?
I’m the king of ‘almost, but not quite there’,
The prince of ‘oh well, that’s life’,
My crowning achievements are just thin air
And yet I still wonder why I’m awkward…
I suffer from the malady of verbal diarrhoea,
Word that won’t stop coming pummeling into your ear
But I’m silent once I find that there’s a person to impress,
I just acquiesce into this aggressive stress.
My foot’s in my mouth cos I’m just too loud,
Formulating sentences and just letting it out
As a little indication of what’s making me so crazy here’s a prime example of a conversation with a lady:
‘So hey! How’s it going for you?
Not bad? Oh yeah, well, yeah me too,
Apart from the fact that I’m obsessed with this girl,
Yeah she’s great, oh it’s not you, but you’re similar,
So what do you like, oh cool, just like her,
Yeah she’s awesome you know, do you want to see a picture?’
And just like that all my chances are gone,
In a flash of spectacular failure and I’m done.
Back to my bedroom, back to my chair
Where girls don’t say no and my left hand’s always there.
I’m the elephant sitting in the room; I’m the atmosphere you cut with a knife,
I’m the one that comes and says your daughter’s fit and then tries to cop off with your wife…
credits
from The Shoestring EP,
released January 6, 2013
Sam Parry – Vocals/Guitars
Steve Pycroft – Drums, Shakes, Whistles and bells
Pete Robinson – Keys
Alex Timewell – Bass
Alex Dee – Saxophone
Adam Seed - Trumpet
Written/Arranged/Produced/Engineered by S. Parry
Mastered by Ben @ Condate Audio
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