Last one standing Lemmings in the slipstream. Rowdy overhead with a chance of cirrus bleeding. Tumbling babies Full can crushed – it's raining. Drop the metaphors And stop your complaining. Only boring people get bored (I'm an accountant with a funko pop collection and) No dullard can ever be adored. (I'd try to face myself if it weren't for all this contrition) Only boring people get bored (I read car magazines and get a kick from petrol stations) No dullard can ever be adored. Maybe I'll throw my brain a bone And take a trip to the pub alone. Learn the pluggy for the very first time Until I've got four hands And it's got one light. “Survival” is a strong word for such a basic thing. Between harsh syllables, still living, Still living still breathing. Face the corner, though you've done nothing wrong. I just need you to ask that paint what's taking so long. Only boring people get bored (My organs are all beige to match my general disposition) No dullard can ever be adored (I'd sooner face the grave than seek a love with any friction) Only boring people get bored (Exiled to Wick because I can't commit to self-betterment) No dullard can ever be adored You wanted this, feeling worthless A big ol' burden to yourself. But where better than the arse-end of nowhere To contemplate your own mental health? Just keep asking the mirror, Asking the furniture Is this limbo? Is this limbo? All alone with hemispheres akimbo. And between the panic attacks The fixtures and fittings scream back, “Face the firing squad!” (The synapses collapse) “Boy, you're on your tod!” (Double back, double back) See this through and I promise you You won't have changed a bit. It's a lovely hotel but, man, I feel like shit.

Kicking in frame, The photo's ruined, Dark room's gone bad. Overexposed Another summer spitting in a carrier bag. Big drip, Slow fade. The cinematic memory's a dud. Seething something, Wants somewhere to call home, With all his moss and his bones, All in an orderly pile. Breath in before you screech to a halt. Binoculars 'round your navel, Probably wearing them wrong. It's something brand new, But the proof only lives in your mind. For all I know I could be old In terms of something far beyond my understanding. Patience rolled a spare And I'm just left standing there. Between the conifers You lost a glove and three fingers to boot. Claim it's all worth it, Not some foolish pursuit of an untruth. Once frostbitten, half as shy. The cause has gained a victim But lost no verity. In your minds' eye, the horizon is peppered With looming figures Who inadvertently stole your digits But fuelled your belief. Breathe in Let the sight fall on it's head. I loved this elusive creature, But now I wish it were dead. 'Cause with legs this long I'm pretty good at kicking myself when I'm down. For all I know I could be old In terms of something far beyond my understanding. Patience rolled a spare And I'm just standing there. Yeah I'm left standing there. Oh, the truth is still out there, But I'm left standing. Yeah.

[lyrics redacted on the request of The Granite Grub and The Flamegrilled Silverback, esquires]

Cut the chase entirely I'm ready for the end, 'cause when time's as bendy a bastard as this It's hard not to pretend That anything between the now and finale makes a dent In a cosmic convalescence, That I'm not actively trying to amend. But it's all moot If I'm not speaking out And standing up for myself when I should be Bellowing from the heart. But an un-calm quiet chokes my instinct Suppressing some audacious younger part. An albatross around the neck In the hand's worth ten in the bush. No, I've never been a twitcher With shove nor with push. Though I'll keep waxing these wings, Icarus. No avian preacher, A heron on the banks Of a river I've been drinking from, Will ever draw my thanks. Yet I'm still darning these wings For dead Icarus. An albatross around the neck In the hand's worth ten in the bush. No, I've never been a twitcher With shove nor with push. Though I'll keep waxing these wings, Icarus. No avian preacher, A heron on the banks Of a river I've been drinking from, Will ever draw my thanks. Yet I'm still waxing these wings, Still darning these wings, Still covet those things That can never be. Sink the sun. Boil the ocean. Let the crops wither And holidaymakers tan.

Gunmetal rising in the East, Pennies swim in an old man's breath. You tried to be disastrous And overshot. Harnessing the elements is child's play, But guess my card, Messmer, And I'll be yours for the best part of forever. When set in stone The truth can be unbearable, So raise the dead and cut your hair accordingly. The stage is only lit from one direction; Your eyes, they cast a shadow On a crowd that's mainly made up of potential. But what do you see? The signs of life are lacking. Rustle worried in your head, That paper bag. Occultly inclined, The seafloor's a must. The final trick in all its splendour Always drags. Assure me the rabbit's alive In that hat, in that hat, in that hat. Could you learn to believe? To run the gamut of an art Held in such medium regard And you're the only tool on stage, With saws involved Is bravery unparalleled in nature. Bears use caves for shelter While you're hiding, watching Charlie Bit My Finger. Could you learn to believe In nothing in particular? Could you learn to believe In nothing in particular? Could you learn to believe? But what do you see? The sun was always setting. The hanged man's always looming. Rustle worried in your head, That paper bag. Occultly inclined, The seafloor's a must. The final trick in all its splendour Always drags. Assure me the rabbit's alive in that hat. Be gentle if you're gonna saw me in half. Chuck me in the sea and I'll swim Even if I'm dead For a laugh Could you learn to believe In nothing in particular? Could you learn to believe In nothing? Could you learn to believe In nothing in particular? Could you learn to believe In nothing?