Call Me

You got my number fucking call me,
Show some human dignity
You play my heartstrings like some shitty harp
Or some old tramps guitar
And if you think that wasn’t bad enough,
You park my new car up a tree.

Then you won't fucking talk to me
And if you do you get all shitty
Man you got a no fucking sense of humour

I bought you flowers, fucking roses
And got stigmata sent for free
It’s not that I think I’m god
Or some rock star from MTV
I just want to feel wanted, not treated,
Like a weapon's grade disease

When we first kissed it felt priceless
And all the press agreed
But now it’s more like 50p
So mow I’m not glad I’m alive
And there ain’t no way
I’m paying for ass again

Some times I get macho,
And swing from a tree to tree
Awaking, as I bounce along the street
these day's I shoot my mouth off.
Throw bricks at the police
Escaping playing dead and taking beats.

So now I’m not glad I’m alive
And there ain’t no way
I’m getting bust again

When it’s Christmas and it’s freezing
Don’t be calling, writing, begging
or pleading poverty,
I’ll be warm with your sister getting dirty
Sticking angles on the tree.
Coz there’s every chance you’ll see me
Shakin my ass on MTV

And now you won't fucking talk to me
But when you do, you get all shitty
Man you isn’t got no sense of humour
But still it’s funny now you live so poorly
So damn funny now you live in poverty


©6/16/2009 Alex Kyriacou