Official website of the London-based acoustic punk band

Lyrics

Acousticore
Don’t try and dig too deep
You’ll only be disappointed
There is not much to be found
We’re not gonna be around

Not a lot of people can understand
Why three metalheads write acoustic songs
But the answer is quite simple my friend
We haven’t got a drummer

So yes we’re all fans of heavy metal
Why does that mean we can’t play this song?
Just because hard rock is what we’re about
Doesn’t mean we have to shout

Not a lot of people can understand
Why three metalheads write acoustic songs
But the answer is quite simple my friend
We haven’t got a drummer

Substance really isn’t our thing
We’re just here to have a good time
So far I’m here without swearing
Bullshit cock-wank mother fucker

Drums aren’t required
Drums aren’t required
Drums aren’t required
Drums aren’t required
Drums aren’t required
Drums aren’t required
Drums aren’t required
Drums aren’t required

Don’t try and dig too deep
You’ll only be disappointed
There is not much to be found
We’re not gonna be around

Not a lot of people can understand
Why three metalheads write acoustic songs
But the answer is quite simple my friend
We haven’t got a drummer

Not a lot of people can understand
Why three metalheads write acoustic songs
But the answer is quite simple my friend
We haven’t got a drummer

20 Frags to Win
Eyes stuck to the TV screen
Gonna beat you down
If I don’t win I’m gonna scream
Gonna take you to boom town

I might be shit at sports
But I can kick your arse at Quake
Fuck me this is too much fun
I think i’m gonna get a headache

In this Unreal Tournament match
It’s 20 frags to win
Wasting bots with no trouble
Let the shitstorm begin!

I might be shit at sports
But I can kick your arse at Quake
Fuck me this is too much fun
I think i’m gonna get a headache

Eyes stuck to the TV screen
Gonna beat you down
If I don’t win I’m gonna scream
Gonna take you to boom town
In this Unreal Tournament match
it’s 20 frags to win
Wasting bots with no trouble
Let the shitstorm begin!

I might be shit at sports
But I can kick your arse at Quake
Fuck me this is too much fun
I think i’m gonna get a headache

A Song About A Song
Few weeks to write to a song
Few weeks don’t feel so long when
You consider how long it takes to
Write a shitty song, fuck sake

But I’ll write this song
Don’t care how long it takes But
every week that goes by blank I’ll
chop off a finger until there’s nothing left to play
Guitar

Liked this song when I started writing but
now the lyrics don’t seem so exciting
Not all’s lost I still like the topic and
turns out nothing good rhymes with topic

But I’ll write this song
Don’t care how long it takes but
every week that goes by blank I’ll
chop off a finger until there’s nothing left to play
Guitar

Almost done now, final verse
Not there yet it could get worse
Drinking scotch to help the flow
I should stop but I can’t say no

Win in spite of the tremendously homosexual Andrew and his big gay face that’s gay
Sean still fails pathetically in life so much more than Andrew but he’s totally not gay
Don’t forget Lewis, he fails too!
But at least he isn’t a short, fat, hairy bastard
Oh wait, I totally am

Inbred Hamster Explosion
Tonight is the night for metal
I haven’t got any scores to settle
Got my ticket, some extra change
Get in my way, your face I’ll re-arrange

Hardcore dancers, you can fuck off
Filthy windmillers, you can fuck off
Lanky bastards, you can fuck off
You killed my brother and you spilled my pint

Everyone’s gone mental for the support acts
The moshers have left my skull all cracked
My face is caved in by some epic riffs
The ticket to this show was not much of a gift

Hardcore dancers, you can fuck off
Filthy windmillers, you can fuck off
Lanky bastards, you can fuck off
You killed my brother and you spilled my pint

Why can’t you be nicer to me
Broke my face, I was just trying to see
All I wanted was an apology
I didn’t get it so I ripped off your knees

Hardcore dancers, you can fuck off
Filthy windmillers, you can fuck off
Lanky bastards, you can fuck off
You killed my brother and you spilled my pint

Party at Clifford’s House
Puking on the floor and the up the wall
Some cheap slag is touching my balls
Drinking cheap vodka until it burns
Rolling joints and taking turns
Red wine really isn’t your thing
Now you’ve got a burning ring
Crimson spray comes from your mouth
The runs appear to be heading south

Oh yeah let’s do crystal meth
Fuck that we’re the Pigeons of Death
I don’t need any of your crap
I’m afraid I’ve got the clap

All my mates are going down for theft
They’ve all done a whitey and I’m all thats left
Leaving the house before they’re awake
I’ve got a mother fucking headache
Just want to forget about last night
Now my shoes are covered in shite
Getting home before the rents get back
I’ve got to clean my shitty crack

Oh yeah let’s do crystal meth
Fuck that we’re the Pigeons of Death
I don’t need any of your crap
I’m afraid I’ve got the clap

Lets all do crystal meth
Lets all do crystal meth
Lets all do crystal meth
Fuck that we’re the pigeons of death

Oh yeah let’s do crystal meth
Fuck that we’re the Pigeons of Death
I don’t need any of your crap
I’m afraid I’ve got the clap

Post Apocalypse
Post apocalyptic
That’s how I want this world to be
If this world was over
I could do what I want and live free

Post apocalyptic universe
Like Mad Max or Water World
Carry guns and what I want
Ain’t no law to make us stop

I’ll take your house, I’ll take a car
No-one to stop me getting what I want
This is my life this is my world
I can beat the bad guy I can get the girl
You can’t cancel me out you can’t pick me last
My arsenal is growing my power is vast

Vast and lonely wasteland
That’s what this world is gonna be
When the nuke’s are dropping
If you wanna live then stick with me

I hope you can handle radiation
Cause trust me its gonna cause some bad mutation
We can carry guns and what we want
Ain’t no law to make us stop

I’ll take your house, I’ll take a car
No-one to stop me getting what I want
This is my life this is my world
I can beat the bad guy I can get the girl
You can’t cancel me out you can’t pick me last
My arsenal is growing my power is vast

Post apocalypse
Post apocalypse
Post apocalypse

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