Hanging about and you'll stay no doubt
With your tongue hung out
With your sung not shout

In the folds of the sheet, in the flat of the pleat
The milk of the teat or the pants of the seat if you will


Shocked and enthused by your yesterday's news
And your role as a muse
In a robe that you dis'd on a whim

Of a sketch of your hair in a bun
Your stature undone and unbuckled of knuckles and limbs


Moved and abused by the craft of a stitch
A son of a b*tch or a !@$( that's bred just to kill
It aghast in the sail of a mast

That's forcing a fast
On the strike of a hunger to fill


Stretching to last with your arm on a cast
A half-finished task and a bucket that's filled to the brim
Of a cup that's been drained its remains

The half that's poured out is the song that we shout, let's begin?

The sun is melting the butter

It melts into the ground
The paper sticking together
It doesn't make a sound

[x2]

Hanging about and you'll stay no doubt

With your tongue hung out
With your sung not shout
In the folds of the sheet, in the flat of the pleat

The milk of the teat or the pants of the seat if you will
[x5]