Next year I’m gonna learn to fly
I’ll get there if I start by July
Don’t care if I fall, I gotta try
Next year I’m gonna learn to fly

YO, PEANUT BUTTERFLY, PUMP UP THE JAM!! (x4)

I’LL NEVER FORGET THIS YEAR, no no no no I won’t

The year of the rat, ain’t it funny like that
It was written in the stars
but our deciphering was sub-par
Speculation sells
Oh well
Better luck next year
Crack open a beer for the ones no longer here
Were you able to steer clear of frontier peers?
Or were you caught in the headlights, sacrificial deer?
It might have been a leap year but we’re stuck in first gear
Oh yeah
Another trip ‘round the sphere
Another excuse to become austere
Another deadweight in the atmosphere
Another vaccine bought by the auctioneer
Oh yeah
And if I ever see you in a Wetherspoon’s
I’ll slap the bitch outta you, you spineless goon
I know many more were meaner, but on social media
You were quite vocal ‘bout supporting your local
So fuck the conglomerate, they polluted the omlette
With broken eggshells, recalibrate your tolerance
Oh yeah
Now shut the fuck up, while I pledge allegaince to reconnaisance

CHORUS

BUT WHY NOT NOW?

Well,
it just ain’t the time
All I gotta do right now is survive
Keeping cool in the cocoon ain’t a crime
The only person telling me to contrive
Is me, myself, and I
Oh wait

But did I already have it, and just didn’t know?!

I mean….. maybe?
I really can’t say, all cards at play
I just live day to day on the edge of foreplay
Halfway to nowhere, always over there
Insert Schrodinger joke here
Looking forward to things being a little bit clear

HAHAHAHA
DON’T HOLD YOUR FUCKING BREATHE
yeah
I’d be better off wishing for a quick death
That’s what happens when you sympathise with Macbeth
Tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow full of sorrow
For the blow from the shitshow to Jane and John Doe
The tory’s keen knife sees not the wound it makes
In lockdown, what light through yonder window breaks?

THAT’S ROMEO & JULIET
YOU FUCKING FAT DEGENERATE

And never was there a tale of such woe
As the UK’s response, it was an all-time low
And we just had Brexit, how low could we go?
Apparently we could go even lower
That’s what happens when you’re run by growers and sho’ers
And you beg for more smoke from the King ass-blower
Oh yeah
And if you wanna know how I spent my time in lockdown?
I made a whole fucking album, you listening to the last song on it, you clown!

CHORUS

So now, what happens next?
We’re all, frankly perplexed
Are there anymore side effects
Letting these leeches infect?

LIKE A MEGA RECESSION?! Well, pardon my regression
I don’t fucking care anymore
Boris survives the virus and is still a massive twat
That is...supposedly survived
I’m not saying he died
Though I’m sure by now he’s dead inside
But at this point I would not be surprised
If he never fucking had it
Would you?? After all this, would you really be fucking surprised?
Maybe that’s why the antibody test is so delayed
Bring the magic money tree out so Richard Branson gets paid
I’m getting more comfort out of the conspiracies I’ve made
Okay, that’s enough shade

But I don’t know how long I can take this
I’m starting to lose all of my fake bliss
How long before I don’t believe we’ll be okay
That’s a question to answer another day (x4)