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Mute Button
by
Jam Baxter
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My smouldering eyeballs spun right round A hundred yard dash for your gums right now All of your teeth rock spandex shorts And a sweatband tongue[?] hanging upside down His mouth came fresh from interpretive dance class All decked out in his floral prints Stubby little thumbs tryna call your links Whole chat dead, born extinct I witnessed your monologue start with a smugness that I reserve for you Tongue like an old antennae you built to broadcast the sh*t you're working through Shoutout to your captive audience Feet nailed down, too mashed to walk bruv I don't wanna hear your spiritual trap Stop tryna draw gash with that chakra talk I'm a, cynical b*st*rd, cynical G Still too plastered to give еm all grief Is that your heart or a strip of raw beef? Last night's drama is still in your teeth This year's tragеdy seems like some p*ssed off teenage sister sh*t Your eyes might bulge and your limbs'll twitch when I pluck your gums out with my fingertips All that your forehead's missing is a bright red mute button (mute button, mute button, mute button) All that I'm missing is a dead man's tongue (tongue) All that your forehead's missing is a bright red mute button (mute button, mute button, mute button) All that I'm missing is a dead man's tongue You felt the burn of a cliched heatwave All night long he replays the message Mouth chewing around, spewing a cloud of crusty [?] And we don't wanna hear it, hear it Keep yourself sellotaped up Cos your stretched out jaws that encircle the earth are the reason I never say much All it took was a bump of beak to get an hour long gassed up drunken speech And I heard this one for a month at least Ten paces apart on a dusty street I screamed, "draw" One thousand shots to the jaw Never saw it coming I woke up drunk in a bath with his b*t*h to the sound of the same gums[could be guns] running Tryna preach the gospel with a nostril blocked with blood and phlegm Keeps threatening to leave us, we all wonder when You're tryna run a hundred metres with that tongue again Surprise, surprise, I don't give a f**k again All that your forehead's missing is a bright red mute button (mute button, mute button, mute button) All that I'm missing is a dead man's tongue (tongue) All that your forehead's missing is a bright red mute button (mute button, mute button, mute button) All that I'm missing is a dead man's tongue
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