Lyrics Black Eyed Doggerel - Vore Complex

Hello, my name's Ben, and I'm a remarkably ineffective punk
Though I'm forthright, and moody and spent about 10 years drunk
With the body of a god, shame it was Buddha
Could have gone to the gym, maybe I shoulda
Flab, a beer belly and muscles like play dough
And a head like a large, rather scary potato
I freeloaded one bit I just said off a T-shirt
In a marvellous fit of inspiration
But the neurotic integrity of these
Requires me to admit that information
And thus self-referentially molest the poetic flow
Oh well, familiar territory, on with the show

So my mate says to me 'Oi, write something upbeat and funny
You know, flowers and kitties and big, fuzzy bunnies
Leaping squirrels with bushy smiles...'
But fuck that shit, it's not my style

So I thought I'd reform last year's rant now I'm clean
And thus better equipped to describe the obscene
A word of warning, you may probably be offended
By the time this diatribe has ended

Just like Socrates' gad, I was quite a barred fly
The salt up the nose, shot, a nice lemoned eye
And perusing Nick Drake songs brings poetic inspiration
And 70s New York No-Wave bands provide an education
If you don't get those delicate subject hints then I'll leap to the point
So I can leave here and piss off outside for a joint
Actually, only tobacco this time
But I had to get this fucker to rhyme

I'm the world's least successful suicide case
I just can't help living, it's a total disgrace
You could fire me into the sun, I'd just climb out
With a bit of a tan and a headache no doubt

So I shoved an electric drill through my wrist
With disgraceful ineptitude, I wasn't even pissed
Missed the sodding artery by a few millimetres
Well there went bloody Heaven
Nt a peep from St Peter
But my medial and ulnar nerves were shredded to hell
Great, time to swap wanking hands as well
In recompense I got an itchy, throbbing infection
Which is a bit of a pain when you're on 24 hour obs and a section

My old mates all got fucked up and I missed them like absolute hell
Thinking, oh well, I'll hop on the blue bus as well
So I necked 86 Ibuprofen and stumbled off to bed
Woke up 2 days later, thinking 'oh blastappears I'm not dead'
I think it's 86 at least but beyond that I can't remember
Welcome to the joys of this nice long bender
Still, praise to the angels that I managed to cope
And merely paralysed my right hand side through a stroke

Then into my arm veins I hammered some nails
Torquemada would be proud but, alas, it failed
Then out came the blades, bleach and hydrochloric acid
Farewell lovely world as my body went flaccid
Until multiple blood transfusions returned me right here
But the offie of life wasn't serving cheap beer

So I wrapped a long belt around a door handle
One last drop for this literary vandal
But oh no my, that just wouldn't do
Couldn't have the bugger turning blue
And floating in the void that time
Not without a chance for a good old whine
My mate found me in an awkward situation
And assumed it was a case of auto-erotic asphyxiation
Being a bit of a pervert, I wouldn't put it past me
If only he knew that the truth was more ghastly

Bashed my head on the wall again and again
Praying for a blood clot to form in my brain
But I only succeeded in breaking the plaster
Straight through to a sodding bees-nest, I've never run faster

Another one was 40 quid's worth of accumulated Neurofen
You'd really bloody think you'd have got an effect by then
Unfortunately not, they were two years out of date
I didn't check the packets till it was far too late
Not exactly the desired situation
Merely a case of chronic constipation
A real under-dose
I was a bit of a drag
I came out with an arse even more like the Japanese flag

Narked, I thought long and hard about what to do next
As I sprawled on the taps with an over-priced Becks
Perhaps I could go out by fondling a bear
Not the chappies at F.I.S.T, I mean big teeth; more hair
Or swallow heavy water with great aplomb
And turn myself into a walking A-bomb
Or do it American-style: death by cop
Buy a .44 magnum and leave it cocked
As I charged naked into the local nick
With some Semtex
Theresa May's head on a stick
Screaming "Death to the infidels! Praise to Lord Satan!"
Take a shit on the front desk, moan "Mmm, smell that bacon!"
Announce a 28 year history
Of successful Juche-inspired terror attacks
Without stopping to ponder the Mental Health Act

'Cos I'm the world's least successful suicide case
You'll have noticed by now, it's a right fucking disgrace
I think that Rasputin chap has nothing on my life
Yes, living the dream, leading the high life
But still, undeniably, through all the shite
I remain, F... I... N... E and marginally erudite
I hope you've enjoyed me, one transcendentally miserable sot
I'm off for my fag so g'night, that's your lot