Who The Fuck? - Graham Coxon
I stole the bottle of gin from over the counter and ran
I knew I'd been seen
I scarpered stifling giggles down the street
And hid round a corner on a side street
I heard him huffing and the sound
Of his big feet against the paving
He was getting close
As he rounded the corner
I sighted him up down
The barrel of the gun
And on seeing his expression
Change to one of horror and confusion
Jerked back the trigger
His body was jolted back by the force of the bullet
And his feet flew forward
I saw a bright little rivulet of blood are into the air
And I slid the gun into the waistband of my trousers
Who you f_ckin' lookin' at?
Who the f_ck you lookin' at?
Who the f_ck you lookin' at?
Who the f_ck you lookin' at?
Is there really a thing like feeling too much
Can you really escape and numb the real
There's a way of saying, a way of saying a shape
I feel a certain shape and it's complicated
It's not like a square or a circle
It's like crystal or diamond
It's clean, hard, unfathomable
And it ends in an augmental kiss
It ends in an augmental kiss
Who the f_ck you lookin' at?
Who the f_ck you lookin' at?
Who the f_ck you lookin' at?
Who the f_ck you lookin' at?
Rock stars are not cool
They're full of this guy they call Satan
Kids stuff oozing from their mouths
They wear the shoes of dead soldiers shot by soldiers
Valium horses trotting squeezing through their raspberry blood
Sometimes I feel so stupid I wanna quit
Get out of it cos I hate this world and everyone in it
The fat bald men who run it, the fat bald men
Who the f_ck you lookin' at?
Who the f_ck you lookin' at?
Who the f_ck you lookin' at?
Who the f_ck you lookin' at?
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