Verse 1:
They said live for the moment but that was stolen by my iPhone
And now I got the watch, a go pro and I can fly drones
My mother nags at me that I'll never be happy
As I criticise these failures and brand things as tacky
My grandmother told me that I'd gone and lost my sparkle
Like a miserable old cunt who spends his days on a bar stool
Think of the environment you should use a car pool
Like the mass produced meat you eat isn't just as harmful
God complex everyone else is decrepit deviants
With these flying fucking books because I'm lacking in obedience
Guys who wear suits and ties they tend to be sleazy cunts
Never trust the clean shaven be wise with your allegiances
...Lazy cunts are not dunces
Well... I guess some are just dumb thick
I can spot the fake in your crap lousy shit face
Deluded fantasies of earning riches from a mixtape

Hook:
With words you can’t pronounce stories you can’t tell
With words you can’t pronounce stories you can’t tell
With words you can’t pronounce stories you can’t tell
With words you can’t pronounce stories you can’t tell

Verse 2:
I was supposed to finish my album but I bought fallout 4
And now I spend my days in Boston shooting mutants in a war
I turn it off but still see these feral ghouls
Scatty fucking skanks and deluded little fools
Road, gym, club, fallacies
With a library of songs in which the lyrics need casualty
The type to be in Tate modern critiquing artist brush strokes
Or cussing a barbers shape ups whilst he's yielding on a cut throat
You shouldn't have been born human you should've been a tree
So you can get pissed on by creatures the same ones you help breathe
TV has tapped my head again these pixels are a drug
I write depressing shit I don't write music for the clubs
...And I don't make music for the kids
If I did they'd be sociopathic emo little pricks
I do this for no reason what so fucking ever
A creative process is just a process don't think its something clever

Hook:
With words you can’t pronounce stories you can’t tell
With words you can’t pronounce stories you can’t tell
With words you can’t pronounce stories you can’t tell
With words you can’t pronounce stories you can’t tell


Verse 3:
They'll criticise you anyway, may as well do what you feel like
So pick your poison stick your finger up and show them what is real life
Ang tight all the judgers
The happy talking huggers who discuss the lives of others
Hanging out in forums faceless little Normans
Feel they're so important as they're frazzling endorphins
Revenge porn, captives getting heads sawn
Kiddies are at war like they're stars of red dawn
Fortunes from a bed investing in the markets
No ethics in addiction arms factories shares in dark shit
Trimming leaves from hedge funds tax havens for these ventures
An egotistical pissing contest of which one of you gets hencher
The chaser is the mixer
In the silence there's a whisper the calm before the twister
Relying on a fixer to get me an elixir
Then vanish from this town like a vagrant or a drifter