Gut Puppets

Curtain call, places please
Train the spotlight
On the guy who's been living without it
You own the rights to the movement of my insides
When I should have forgotten about it

Clumsy fisting, where's the romance?
Punch inside me, make the gut puppets dance
Rip 'em out
Evaginate
Stitch 'em up and decorate

Look what you made, don't they look great?

Bile rising, a standing ovation
Trade my crowd for a perch on a thin ledge
Come admire our artistic creation:
A royal fuck-up, a coach on a cliff edge

I've never been the best of workmen
But then again, in my defence:
My tools are shit
The splintered wood attests to this

Yet I hammer on
Leave it etched in stone:
"Don't forget to phone...
...Don't neglect to phone"
I'm trying my best to be a child with ADD
All eyes and no flies on me

As base as I go to these lengths to hold the door
Either open or closed depending on the form
Stop me if you're bored or you've heard this one before
My intentions are pure

I put my faith in Punch and Judy
I piss away my sense of duty
I did my sums and what d'ya know?
Three into two doesn't go
It doesn't go
It doesn't go
It doesn't go.