girl band - texting an alien lyrics
at the minute
at the minute i’m throwing biscuits down
o’ connell street, it’s pointless and i don’t why
i’m doing to be honest
at the minute she’s
at the minute
she’s suggesting texting an alien
with custard on her hand with fastest tongue in ireland
at the minute
at the minute in just wearing lyinx africa and talking about putting crisps in pasta dishes
at the minute she’s
at the minute she’s putting the jackets on the coated tablets and listening to the new jet sounds or something
oh sex pesto…it was all she knows from the tip of her tongue to the tip of her toes
you big weirdo licking flat c-ke from the horny nettles of barcode
out of it
out of it
i look at them and i’m out of it
yeah i look at your photos to piss me off from time to time
i wish i had a cap gun for every time you said that one
got sent to the office for whistling
what would it be like if everyone was whistling going around everywhere
what would you do?
take a photo
of quazimoto
i look like him and i’m out of it
out of it
out of it
i look at him and i’m out of it
she races her slugs to their salt lines but you don’t mind do you? do you? sometimes i wanna watch
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