Jolly Fucker - Sleaford Mods

The cunt with the gut and the Buzz Lightyear haircut

Callin' all the workers plebs

You better think about the future

You better think about your neck

You better think about the shit hairdo you got mate

I work my dreams off for two bits of ravioli

And a warm bottle of Smirnoff

Under a manager that doesn’t have a fuckin' clue

Do you want me to tell you what I think about you, Cunt?

I don’t think that’s a very good idea-do you?

You pockmarked four-eyed shit-fitted shirt, white Converse

And a taste for young girls

Don’t send me home with a glint in my eye

I told my family about the fuckin' wage rise

And got fucked on

Devoured

Puked on

And sucked up

You fuckin' fly

The suction on your fly feet

Kept me pinned to the blinds

Whilst your PA rattled out e-mails

Workstation, forced to engage in flirtatious conversation

Fizzy

Fizzy

Fizzy

Well just to keep the job

Just to keep fuck all from turning into a fuckin' nothin' blob

Bang it out;

go on tell me what you really think

You got no chin;

an' you got no balls to chin 'em with

Glass panels separate you

The mid-price handwash from the bin of used

Public toilet paper towels

We’ve run foul of the hidden hatred

That festers in dogs like you

Tripwire taut that makes way for the vacuum

Ya piece of fuckin' shit

My name:

Fizzy

Fizzy

Fizzy

Use the sheet of promise and the red shoes of Dorothy

Blanked out on the bed of thick monotony

With the usual stereotypes that fall for the lip

I fuckin' hate rockers;

fuck your rocker shit

Fuck your progressive side, sleeve of tattoos

Oompa Loompa blow me down with a feather

Cloak and dagger bollocks

Fizzy

Fizzy

Fizzy

Ahhhh!