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