THE MESS.

I'm sorry about the mess

God washed his hands and left

Said a prayer for your purse and ya pets

Bend your knees and purse your lips

Got to take what's coming

Because that's all there is

I'm sorry about the mess

My appearance and bad breath

And the news that you've been left bereft

Comb your hair and shine your shoes

Got to take what's coming

And sing those resurrection blues

I'm sorry about the mess

I'm in a game of mental chess

With all our fucking things again

The patterns are a mystery

Got to take what's coming

The slowest heart attack in history

I'm sorry about the mess

I turned the house into confetti

A moth writhes like a burning witch

I could smash up the gaff with a big fuck off machete

The bugs humming made me itch

Covered in blood and spaghetti

I'm sorry about the mess

And I must address

I'm stuck inside my head like something sticky

The shade I'm in can keep me

Pour another cup of deathwish

And a bowl of dog's heart chilli

Be still my bleeding arse

Dream blind my hermit heart

Im sorry about the mess

I'm afraid I've been silly

I've swallowed thirty years of stress

It's blown myself apart

To paint the town and city

And call it modern art"