Sketchead - Arctic Monkeys

Sketchead is coming to your party

He’s walking up your drive and he’s swinging all his keys around

Sketchead, he’s seen you with your top off

He already knows your boyfriend, retain your introductions

Sketchead, that cumbersome protagonist

The pips in your quince, the eye behind the spy hole

The itch you can’t itch in your ear

And the knock that shattered your packet of peppermints

Sketchead, there’s poison in his spit

He’ll compliment your tits and leave you to your wits

Sketchead, convincingly insisting the tyres were bald

When you gave him the car

Sketchead, still coming to your party

Still walking up your drive and still swinging all his keys around

On his finger as a pendulum to unnerve

And then there’s you, you’ve changed

I approached you like you were the same

But soon it was apparent a new name was required

New lips went and fired accomplishments at me

While I’m captivated by your magazine skin

The tint on your lenses obscures to begin

And you know full well

That anyone who says that they don’t prefer the sequel

Will still be swinging on themselves tonight