Body Bag

Body bag! Body bag! We done already body bagged, body bagged your scene

Body bagged! Body bagged! We done already body bagged, body bagged your scene

Body bag! Body bag! We done already body bagged, body bagged your scene

Body bag! Body bag! We done already body bagged, body body bagged your scene

I’ll fucking bury you. Yeah man, I’ll bury you too

I’m gonna bury everybody, body bag in the boot

Juggernaut coming through your body better move

There’s 206 bones in the body to bruise

Chavs barging in all suited and booted. We’ve pissed all over Punk what’s the next genre to ruin?

I’m a liability filled with hostility, weaving in and out of this man made tapestry and I know I’ve only got myself to blame

You know I live it, like, love it but I hate it the same. Ride or die is so hard to maintain, when Punk becomes Pop it becomes a masquerade

Punk bands getting government grants whilst on a major label. Oh well, what’s the major label bringing to the table?

Hmmm, something smells a bit rotten and it ain’t Johnny, fetch the bag for the scene and I’ll go get the bodies!

Whether you’re digging our sound or you’re digging us out, after our sets done we’re the ones you’re talking about

We do this for the love, there’s no profit after.

 It goes studio, crowd funder to your ghetto blaster

That’s why D.I.Y bands disappear faster than the funds to Louise Distras’s fucking Kickstarter

Labels don’t listen to demos, don’t send ’em.

They don’t listen to the owner ‘Jesus Christ, Fenton!’

If you generate heat then that will cement them creeping up on you like a fart out of your rectum

Body bag your scene, die whilst smiling. If the deal ain’t right then I am not signing

A man can make a mistake, that don’t define him. How much do you suck up? How much are you whining? How much are you fading? How much are you shining? I don’t run on air anymore I’m running on lightning!