jam baxter – mute button lyrics
my smouldering eyeb+lls spun right round
a hundred yard dash for your gums right now
all of your t++th rock spandex shorts
and a sweatband tongue[?] hanging upside down
his mouth came fresh from interpretive dance class
all decked out in his floral prints
stubby little thumbs tryna call your links
whole chat dead, born extinct
i witnessed your monologue start with a smugness that i reserve for you
tongue like an old antennae you built to broadcast the sh+t you’re working through
shoutout to your captive audience
feet nailed down, too mashed to walk bruv
i don’t wanna hear your spiritual trap
stop tryna draw gash with that chakra talk
i’m a, cynical b+st+rd, cynical g
still too plastered to give еm all grief
is that your heart or a strip of raw beef?
last night’s drama is still in your t++th
this year’s tragеdy seems like some p+ssed off teenage sister sh+t
your eyes might bulge and your limbs’ll twitch when i pluck your gums out with my fingertips
all that your forehead’s missing is a bright red mute b+tton (mute b+tton, mute b+tton, mute b+tton)
all that i’m missing is a dead man’s tongue (tongue)
all that your forehead’s missing is a bright red mute b+tton (mute b+tton, mute b+tton, mute b+tton)
all that i’m missing is a dead man’s tongue
you felt the burn of a cliched heatwave
all night long he replays the message
mouth chewing around, spewing a cloud of crusty [?]
and we don’t wanna hear it, hear it
keep yourself sellotaped up
cos your stretched out jaws that encircle the earth are the reason i never say much
all it took was a bump of beak to get an hour long gassed up drunken speech
and i heard this one for a month at least
ten paces apart on a dusty street
i screamed, “draw”
one thousand shots to the jaw
never saw it coming
i woke up drunk in a bath with his b+tch to the sound of the same gums[could be guns] running
tryna preach the gospel with a nostril blocked with blood and phlegm
keeps threatening to leave us, we all wonder when
you’re tryna run a hundred metres with that tongue again
surprise, surprise, i don’t give a f+ck again
all that your forehead’s missing is a bright red mute b+tton (mute b+tton, mute b+tton, mute b+tton)
all that i’m missing is a dead man’s tongue (tongue)
all that your forehead’s missing is a bright red mute b+tton (mute b+tton, mute b+tton, mute b+tton)
all that i’m missing is a dead man’s tongue
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