Dog Dribble

I was in Manchester in the rain

Stood grinning at my phone, looking fucking insane

Cunts push by me, they were getting the train

I thought what would it take for that to derail

Lately been a little not loose

Korn in the oven Limp Biscuit in my brew

Because reality blurs and I'm skipping on the truth

Push away people I'm supposed to be close to

Having peace time, key lime pecan pie

After heaving down a sausage

And half a jar of brine

We've got the orders

We're in the living quarters with a load of hot dogs

And a heap of fucking burgers

Where's my resolve?

I think you got it (I think you got it)

I think you waddled out the room

With it in your back pocket

Turn it up, mum, I've got prawns in my belly

And it's Ken Dodd's dad's dog's death on the telly

Dog dribbling, dog dribbling

Dog dribbling (death on the telly)

Dog dribbling, dog dribbling

Dog dribbling (death on the telly)

Dog dribbling, dog dribbling

Dog dribbling (death on the telly)

Dog dribbling, dog dribbling

Dog dribbling (death on the telly)

Waking up every day in a full sprint

Like the guitarist from the video of Big New Prinz

Forgotten wasted and singed

I'm a burnt chip getting sent to the food bin

Waking up everyday on a food binge

I down three Rennies and exercise discipline

Foolproof get the big booth later on

Execute perfectly about five head spins

Uh

Dog dribbling, dog dribbling

Dog dribbling (about five heads pins)

Dog dribbling, dog dribbling

Dog dribbling (about five head spins)

Dog dribbling, dog dribbling

Dog dribbling (about five head spins)

Dog dribbling, dog dribbling

Dog dribbling (about five head spins)

Move over

Dog dribbling, dog dribbling, dog dribbling

Dog dribbling, dog dribbling, dog dribbling