Cnc-s Mithering Lyrics by Fall, The

Cnc-s Mithering Lyrics

    Three days
    Three months
    Three days
    Three months
    A treatise
    A treatise
    To explain these
    First was cash 'n' carry house dance
    In lancashire they're a
    In king nat ltd. empire
    Kwik save is there
    The scene started here
    Then was america



    Then was america
    We went there
    Big a&m herb was there**
    His offices had fresh air
    But his rota was mediocre
    Us purge, rock 'n' pop filth
    Their material's filched
    And the secret of their lives
    Is...



    All the english groups
    Act like peasants with free milk
    On a route
    On a route to the loot
    To candy mountain
    Five wacky english proletariat idiots
    Californians always think of sex
    Or think of death
    Five hundred girl deaths
    A mexico revenge, it's stolen land
    They really get it off on
    "don't hurt me please"
    Rapist fill the tvs
    And the secret of their lives
    Is s.e.x..



    I have dreams, i can see
    Carloads of negro nazis
    Like faust with beards
    Hydrochloric shaved weirds



    [applause from audience at cyprus tavern ]



    This was going to be called crap rap fourteen,
    But it's now stop mithering.
    The things that drain you off and drive you off the hinge.
    Boils, dirty socks, the ceilings collapse.
    The sunday morning loud lawn mower,
    The upstairs jewish girl damn hoovering every thirty minutes,
    From valium cig withdrawal.
    She wants communal, fluent flat household.
    I want privacy.
    The bastard dentist doctors surgery,
    Clip, clop, ring, knock, ring
    Stop mithering***



    The estates stick up like stacks
    The estates stick up like stacks
    The residents keep wild dogs
    And on that father's bedroom closet top,
    Electric blanket boxes
    Surplus jonnies, demob pictures
    To their children they sing
    Stop mithering



    You think you've got it bad with thin ties,
    Miserable songs synthesized, or circles with a in the middle.
    Make joke records, hang out with gary bushell,
    Join round table. "i like your single yer great!"
    A circle of low iq's.
    There are three rules of audience.
    My journalist acquaintances, go soft, go places,
    On record company expenses.
    I lose humor, manners become bog writers, don't know it.
    The smart hedonists, same as last verse, allusions with
    H in electronics, on stage false histrionics,
    Corpse mauling dicks, pose through a good film, him, him
    Stop mithering



    I'm not joining conventional rock band.
    The conventional is experimental, the conventional is now
    Experimental,
    And is no way noble, and i'm no chock stock thing.
    So stop mithering.
    Engineers save up for cars.
    I try to let down their tyres with matches to make them molten.
    Ouch! ouch!
    They say i rip off johnny rotten
    They always strike for more pay.
    They say "see yer mate..yeh...see yer mate"
    To their mothers they sing
    Stop mithering



    He even did fail the penile tissue test.
    He hangs out for sex.
    He enters magazine contest.
    White tan horror in the mirror.
    Spotty exterior hides a spotty interior.
    He's not your enemy.
    He's not your enemy, his name is not harry.
    The secret of cash and carry.

SEARCH LYRICS