A safe pair of hands
A reason to stand
Some guns to stick to
Rational demands
Come on now, ladies
They won't fertilize themselves
Get into the ball game
Let's clear those shelves
That's what I read in that Sunday magazine
The anvil is falling, falling on your head
But you're just picking your knickers from your arse
Like you're playing a one-stringed harp
Like you're playing a one-stringed harp
Like Wily Coyote
As if the fall wasn't enough
Those bastards from Acme
They got more nasty stuff
Salt in my wounds
Sticking in the boot
Oh, we're all bulimic
But keep forgetting to puke
At least, that's what I read in that Sunday magazine
The anvil is falling, falling on your head
You're just picking your knickers from your arse
Like you're playing a one-stringed harp
Like you're playing a one-stringed harp
Chalk it up, and write it down
Chalk it up, and write it down
Chalk it up, and write it down
Oh, write it down
The hand of history
Is clawing at my back
The iron fist of she
Cupping my sack
Grip is tightening
My voice is heightening
This orange alert
Is beginning to crack
That's what I read in that Sunday magazine
The anvil is falling, falling on your head
You're just picking your knickers from your arse
Like you're playing a one-stringed harp
Like you're playing a one-stringed harp
That's what I read in that Sunday magazine
The anvil is falling, falling on your head
You're just picking your knickers from your arse
Like you're playing a one-stringed harp
Like you're playing a one-stringed harp, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah
Chalk it up, and write it down
Chalk it up, and write it down
Chalk it up, and write it down
Chalk it up, and write it down
