Mr Match and Mrs Candlestick

Mr Match and Mrs Candlestick
Had one hell of a party trick
He'd drag his flammable head along a rough wall
And then, to the delighted gasps of all
With a kiss, he'd ignite her waxy head
'She's hot' he'd cry, 'that's why we wed!'
Then to applause and a frightened shout
He'd casually lean in and blow the flame out

More applause...and 'wow' someone said!
But poor Mr Matchstick was filled with dread
He thought he'd gone mad, or could he be drunk?
For to him, his wife looked as though she had shrunk...
But he loved the applause...so like a chump
He carried on until his wife was just a waxy lump!!!

Onion Head

Onion head, was an unlucky one,
Always had to avoid the sun
If he got hot, his skin would peel
And evryone would start to squeal
An onion scent would fill the sky
And poor onion would be blamed for making everyone cry

Uniform Riot

Nicotine cravings got them
Belting for the exits, Can't
Afford 'nuffink' but still smoke
Their brain's out, between pints
Bought for three quid a pop

They watched themselves, over
Summer on widescreen T.V.'s
Smashing, cheering and looting
A uniform riot, with
Scarf over face and hooded head

Police pick on us they pleaded
'I only sell drugs coz
I can't get a job,' lazy
Slob, even the pigeons are getting fat

I exersize my right, and
also my left glutes, used
Mostly for sitting, scratching
And shitting, the sorry state
Of the FB mob.

Contradiction

Green and grey, a contradiction
Brown would be more fitting
A Blueless sky, sunless to
Soon it will be spitting
A telephone pole, next to another
A broom upside down in the ground
A solitary dwelling for a solitary man
Green and grey contradiction all around.

Fashion Victim

Thick rims, tousled hair
Just got out of bed
Do you know how long it takes to look like you just got out of bed

Pants out, haven't shaved
Blood shot eyes are red
I haven't slept a wink to look like I just got out of bed

Score Whore

And so it is, she's come to live
In a world where skinny jeans are worn
And so I know, it really blows
Soho's not where she was born

Chained to the rad, things got so bad
No one would give her the key
And so it is, she's come to live
In this shithole, her and me

Tramp

I sit and I stare as it pours and it pours
Heavier and wetter, it washes concrete clean
The world smells fresher, natures laws
Pitter patter appeals to eardrums, so serene
His wool cap is soaked and his can is gone
His coat gets heavier and wetter
He knows now he's wet the night willl be long
But he hopes tomorrow the sun will make it all better
From under a brolly he films the scene
While the owner spectates getting soaked
He raps in his face he doesn't mean to be mean
The drink kicks in and he feels provoked
As a young man he'd stand and put up a fight
But he's made a mistake because their skin is so dark
Their different from him, he used to be so light
But they mean him no harm, it's all just a lark

Chelsea Girl

She's a Chelsea Girl
So I bought her Chelsea Boots
Now she stomps around

Winter

The early winter sun, brought early winter cheer
I noticed with delight, the daffodils were here
Then overnight, a frightful frost did fall
The cold arrived and killed them all.