Blog Maggot Songtext
von Sleaford Mods

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Blog maggot m-m-m-mm-mm
Blog maggot m-m-m-mm-mm

Celebrities are flocking
My real mates are dropping
The English way
If you look like y′winning they fuck ya mate
Winning what?
I got a fruit machine wi' chewy on the slot
I′m knocking back nicotine beans
My fingertips tingle - official... or non-official
I just wanna send the fucking email
Blog maggot, YouTube twat
If I ever meet the cunt I'll bite his fucking head flat

Blog maggot m-m-m-mm-mm
Blog maggot m-m-m-mm-mm
Blog maggot m-m-m-mm-mm
Blog maggot


This is why the force is strong with a Tory
No blonde moments, no-ones shite
We are just tricked into dislike
Headcase men, dead men, war
Ed Sheeran selling fast best album marketing farce
On You
We are John Rocha - we are all John Rocha
Used to be fendi trendy - faintly trendy
Now nobody gives a tosser

All of this death, everyone's deaf, all of the death
William S. Burroughs can tell him Seth
It′s all this death, who ever
On your Facebook feed poster
Philosophical wanker
All this death
We are all half-cut - half-dead - hard to swallow
Night trainers on me
I can′t sing about anarchy in all this death

You, multiple images, magazine men
I'm buff like a tent, smoking a peg men
Guts like a stink pipe sink pipe
Bits of bean juice washing-up sleep then death
All this death
All this death
All this death
All this fucking death


Blog maggot m-m-m-mm-mm
Blog maggot m-m-m-mm-mm
Blog maggot m-m-m-mm-mm
Blog maggot

Promenade voting jacket
Silver bullet polo hacket
Golden stitch don′t ya skinnage
No, I'm minted mate
Geronimo, tally-ho, bombs away Derek
Don′t sound quite the same
They've all got shit Eighties mahogany wood names
Like fat cigars in sunburnt boxes

Lord Loxley Cobhead in Union Jack wasits
Robin Thicke - thick as fuck
The trendy sex heads are all thick as fuck
That cunt with the big hat
He′s as thick as fuck
That cunt who gave drugs up
But still writes tunes that celebrate 'em
He's as thick as fuck

Blog maggot m-m-m-mm-mm
Blog maggot m-m-m-mm-mm
Blog maggot m-m-m-mm-mm
Blog maggot m-m-m-mm-mm

People can do what they want, no they can′t
Y′can't keep kissing that cunt behind reception
It′s work you twat
And not a flashy love bite convention
Moaning like a poor cunt
Like a shriveled bitter wanker
A stomach full of Gold Blend trousers
Like Jo Fucking Fox's
New 30 mile speed limit enforce

Speed camera pensioners on Harleys, yeah course
Y′reap the Tudor piglets of picturesque hamlets
Park outside some cunt's house
Toggy pocket
He′s the gaffer
Selwyn Froggitt
I flog parrots to them Grantham lads
Do a little Leonard one-skinner
It's not that y'can handle it

It′s just that you don′t want to fucking talk about it
Pepper on chips
I can yam five filet of fish easy
The idea is you gotta go around the bend
And not into it
Key markets, fine fare, fine trade
Chris Martin nightmare

Nightmare n-n-n-nn-nn
Nightmare n-n-n-nn-nn
Blog maggot m-m-m-mm-mm
Blog maggot m-m-m-mm-mm
Blog maggot m-m-m-mm-mm
Blog maggot