He's bug-eyed and can't really see
Can't see that the small hand is pointing at three
His drink's his only solace yet it drives him insane
His friends patience is running out
More missed calls on his mobile than he can count
There's trouble in the air 'cos he got pissed again
His curtains stayed closed all through the day
Got such a migraine and nothing to say
Nothing ever changes everthing is the same
Release notes:
All words by Tico Jnr. & Bri Jnr., all music by Tico Jnr. except
Incoming call from an angry Mr. Gribble
Bri Jnr. somewhat confusingly states:
Tico wrote this song as a warning to yours truly, at least I assume he did. He must have had a premonition that I would descend into alco-hell as our career ascended into the heavens. On second thoughts, I contributed a lot of the lyrics so maybe it was a self-fulfilling prophecy.
Tico's tunage and mobile ringtone without a shadow of a doubt though. One of our shortest songs and it's probably for the best considering it's delicate subject matter. Let's move on now shall we?
Tico Jnr. drunkenly advises:
Pfft. What was I thinking? I offered Bri an olive branch, and he was rude in declining. He was very much out of control. 'It's only one bottle' he'd protest, as if it wasn't harming him. I'd seen him knock back a bottle of lo-and-no alcohol cider too often. Sometimes he'd get through more than one a day.
I thought the medium of song would turn him around. He loved it, and celebrated with yet another bottle of lo-and-no alcohol cider. I must admit, I also had cause for celebration that day - finally moving off velcro trainers and onto those wth laces. What a day.
