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The Crimea
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Out of Africa
I struggle to think of a beastier beast
than the beast I became
Gone to the pub in pyjamas and slippers again
Driven only by the Herculean desire
To fill my body with anything
that helps me forget it's a body in the first place
Gone to the pub in pyjamas and slippers again
Humankind, never stood a chance
Too scared to leave the house
Far from the madding crowd
Gonna be a fatcamp hero now
So began, the chronicles of man
This weak distorted thing
Evil and all that jazz
Came out of Africa
Follow the Yellow Brick Road wherever
the damn thing goes
Winter just hangs around,
like a smoker's cough of sixty years
Stumbling through a no-frills life with a chip
on my shoulder the size of an iceberg
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Winter just hangs around like a smoker's
cough of sixty years
Human Kind, never stood a chance
Too scared to leave the house
Far from the madding crowd
Gonna be a fatcamp hero now
So began, the chronicles of man
This weak distorted thing
Evil and all that jazz
Came out of Africa
Does winter just hang around
Like a smoker's cough of sixty years
We go where the bad people go
Gonna be a fatcamp hero now
So began, the chronicles of man
This weak distorted thing
Evil and all that jazz
Came out of Africa
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