Lumps (Live Fire)

Walk up to failure Walk up to regret Walk up to a place you’ll never forget Passed the pregnant guard Then a red paradise of dreams and scars Leg scars, arm scars, belly scars lead by far Slow down The marks of the old country's dog The old cliche exploitation blues No offers no young hungry men could refuse “Welcome to Hell” She may as well say As you walk up, walk up You walk up on love on your lunch break Walk up, walk up Walk up to see God, to see Sweet Jane You still smell her snatch As you trawl the accounts Flip through the company books You can say you rode the coattails of blind chance I know that you’rе itchin' for romance, another lonely businеss cunt The kind that only knows how to pay to touch In the boardroom Your fish fingers shake hands with the top flight men Check your balls for lumps once they’ve left What’s that itch? Is that new? Is that workin' as it’s supposed to? Am I alive? Is she sleeping with eyes open? There’s a place for your briefcase But watch out for the wandering hands And walk up Walk up You act like that's how you spend your days Walk up on love on your lunch break Walk up To see God, to see Sweet Jane To pay for a new name For love on your lunch break You can make a life of these pretty things, or just get by on the brink You're asked as you're both walking past Fading indifference No idea, enough to live I suppose When the favourite catches your eye, eye She stays quiet in her exhale of relief The humiliation is almost complete Chalk it up to blind fate Tomorrow [?] for love on your lunch break You're gonna walk up You fucking prick, you fucking pervert Walk up Walk up