Satellite Prongs
I don't want a coffin
And I don't want to burn
Leave me here naked
I like dying with the worms
Only play the sad songs
I remembered all those words
Forget all of my lessons
And tell me I've looked worse
Sad alight prongs
It's your satellite song
Satellite prongs man
It's your satellite song
Sad alight prongs man
Satellite song
Well I don't wanna be buried with a sign above my temple
Saying long live a man who cannot breathe
Theres a hole in my head
Where you can stick your middle finger
Hoping everyone can see
Out in the forrest with the pig man and ghost
Screaming no-one scares here but me
In a town of freaky people I am honest
We are meals for our bent economy
Sad alight prongs man
It's your satellite song
Sad alight prongs man
It's your satellite song
Too skinny to be believable
To chubby to be real
To tell the world you really care
Well that's the fucking deal
Too skinny to be believable
To chubby to be real
To tell the world you really care
Well that's the fucking deal
No fucking deal
You are a racist
Homophobic
Baited
Bigoted fool
Sucking off atomic bombs
...Theres no such thing as cool
Jesus Christ
Father fucker
Riding his bike
Into anyone of us
Jesus likes
His weeping mother
Do what you like
And into anyone of us
Satellite prongs
Writer/s: Ashley Weaver, James Brown, Thomas Egerton
