Credits
PERFORMING ARTISTS
Everything Everything
Performer
Jonathan Higgs
Vocals
Alexander Robertshaw
Guitar
Jeremy Pritchard
Bass
Michael Spearman
Drums
COMPOSITION & LYRICS
Jonathan Higgs
Songwriter
Jeremy Pritchard
Songwriter
Michael Spearman
Songwriter
Alex Robertshaw
Songwriter
PRODUCTION & ENGINEERING
Alexander Kaines
Producer
Tom Fuller
Recording Engineer
Martin King
Additional Engineer
Cenzo Townshend
Mixing Engineer
Frank Arkwright
Mastering Engineer
Lyrics
Call the cops and tell them what I want
My battery's a hundred percent, it all made sense
A bomb for a body, a hammer for a head
My battery's a hundred percent, it all made sense
All your stories are about your death
The lemmings on the way to the cliff, the brain-dead boys
Calling you a hooligan, a Border Reiver git
The boxer with a box of old shit, the big white noise
It's all about the money now
You put the hard drive in the microwave
You antelope, you are a sack of wine
Huh, huh
Call the cops and tell them what I want
My battery's a hundred percent, it all made sense
Just blame it on the empire, blame it on the empire
Blame it on the empire, blame it on the empire, I don't know
It's all about the Benjamins
It's all about the wilderness for me
Tomorrow is a wonderful idea
Huh, huh
It's the end of the contender
The end of the contender
It's the end of the contender
The end of the contender
Feeding time, animatronic eyes
Are a-watching with delight (the end of the contender)
A churning mind, oh, give me that rabid smile
Those Creddahornis eyes
Call the cops and tell them what I want
My battery's a hundred percent, it all made sense
A bomb for a body, a hammer for a head
My battery's a hundred percent, it all made sense
(It all made sense)
The end of the contender
The end of the contender
The end of the contender
The end of the contender
Writer(s): Alexander Kaines Robertshaw, Jeremy Pritchard, Jonathan Joseph Higgs, Michael David Spearman
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