Lyrics
Cause i remember heady days when they were my friends, all the words upon your tongue, but i ve been damaged
And the stains will be reminders of how good it used to hurt, i never got your pretext for this whole rigmarole
a loop of local origin
Don t you see how it could hurt, then the stars will all arrive
A loop of local origin, and if the stars are aligned, i ll be the lamb slaughtered at the little smug supper club
then the stars will all arrive
Like when i caught you at my brother s wedding, i d rather hear insulting than ignoring me intentionally
And it s insulting to the subtext when you write it out in bold, pissing in the punch bowl Club, then the stars will all arrive
All the words upon your tongue, and all the kiddies at your table sipping vinegar from flutes
i wish that it was true
I never got your pretext for this whole rigmarole, i ll be the lamb slaughtered at the little smug supper club
a loop of local origin
It was nothing more than fun to you, i ll be the lamb slaughtered at the little smug supper club
embarrassed as i crunched upon a carrot for an amuse bouche
But i ve been damaged, then the stars will all arrive
but i ve been damaged
Embarrassed as i crunched upon a carrot for an amuse bouche, like opening up a bottle and always giving you the first, and all the kiddies at your table sipping vinegar from flutes
For your celebrated artisanal cuts of the cruelest kind, and if the stars are aligned
I ll be the lamb slaughtered at the little smug supper club, pissing in the punch bowl Supper, all the words upon your tongue
i ll be the lamb slaughtered at the little smug supper club
to drop it like it s hot and leave it lying in the dirt
for your celebrated artisanal cuts of the cruelest kind
Then the stars will all arrive, a loop of local origin, a loop of local origin
Then the stars will all arrive, to drop it like it s hot and leave it lying in the dirt
while you serve it up in artisanal cuts of the cruelest kind
None of it s done to you, none of it s done to you
then the stars will all arrive
And from the field to the chafing dish, i ll be the lamb slaughtered at the little smug supper club
To drop it like it s hot and leave it lying in the dirt, and from the field to the chafing dish
Provincial view of urban men, then the stars will all arrive, while you serve it up in artisanal cuts of the cruelest kind
you just gave lip service to
and though the damage isn t done
