A morbid fascination with all things in extremes A limited sport will leave its spot on me Early in the morning, I've given up on sleep I'm in the attention, but all I hear is my heart beat His spastic aspirations will make a man of me Brought him for his playing, such sensitivity Monsters of the present are the monsters of the past Took a look in your lyric book, your head's right your arse It's unbelievable, the way you got it all, it seems improbable The inner city fauna is crying round your feet I never really noticed how your eyebrows seemed to meet In perpetual fear of being swallowed whole Beached in the suburbs in the body of a whale
