Plate Of Spewins (A song for Keith Johnstone)

I don’t know, how all these fuck’n pints, are staying in my guts
Coz you wont come out, so I feel safe to walk home with you
And get a vindaloo, coz I will pass out, before I get it off, with you
But my mouth is full of spueins, so I tan it all down
But it comes back up on my plate, that was lush but it’s too late
I’ve got a date, with my pillow and my face,
Fuck that I’ll clean it up, when I come 2, I’ll be dealing with you

And my plate of nasty spewins

I feel sick like my stomach’s been hit, by a brick, or a
Granny’s walking stick, damn you just kicked me out
For sayn townies suck, well fuck you; you know it’s true
I’ll take my cash and book a fuck’n cab, as I,
Can not walk or barely even talk, cheers mate heres £10
Can I put my key, into that lock, fuck that looks like tee,
Looks like Ged has left it all for me, Ta mate I’ll tan the lot

Next day I come round I feel worse than if I’d smoked the brown
My eyes still dilate, oh shit did you clean that plate, yes I fucking did,
And it tasted really good so you went with out, and went to bed
Still fucked of your head, so I ate your food and licked
The plate clean, it shone like windowleen, so it tasted good ?
But I’ve got news for you, that wasn’t vindaloo,
that was a plate of my spuwins, and you ate the lot and you,
ran to the bog and stuck your head down the bowl,
and puked up your soul now you wont come out,
and I nock on the door, are you ok? Can you vomit any more?
Oh you just fuck off , this is all down to you,
And your filthy PLATE OF SPEWINS



Alex Kyriacou © 2009-02-08