More songs by Monster Florence
Description
Producer: Tom Donovan
Composer: Andre Mclean
Composer: Quinton Mitton
Composer: Alex Osiris
Composer: Tom Donovan
Composer: Cameron Morrell
Composer: Jonny Poole
Lyricist: Andre Mclean
Lyricist: Quinton Mitton
Lyricist: Alex Osiris
Lyricist: Tom Donovan
Lyricist: Cameron Morrell
Lyricist: Jonny Poole
Lyrics and translation
Original
Full pelt down a landslide, I'm swigging Listerine.
Wash away while I capsize in inabilities. You're not safe in this slag's mind, she wants a mini-me.
Run the race if you're rat-like, just keep a little cheese.
Press on play, you're on standby, and now you're middle-aged.
Second season, a sad sight, and daddy needs a raise.
The collector's a fat guy, keeps turning up with mates and demanding a plate when I just made a bolognese.
Ch-ch-ch-ch-cheese. One, two, three, four, race.
Ch-ch-ch-ch-cheese. One, two, three, four, race.
Honey on a bun, secrets on a pillow. Look what you gone and done.
She said, "Fuck it," I said, "Ditto. " Look, now we on the run, turning me like how we get home?
Look, I am not the one, yeah, honey on a bun, yeah.
Tick follows tock, follows tick, follows tock.
Tell me, how long have we got on this big hollow rock? Told me I'm too lit, I'm literally not.
Told me take it all off, but there's bits in my sock. I think it was room forty-seven.
She said forty-five minutes 'til the next session, so I'm guessing there won't be no fucking wedding. Always did love a happy ending, always did run it like the brethren.
Like the man, the myth, the legend. I'm fucking up a pack like I'm opening a present.
I'm fucking up the tick, follows tock, follows tick, follows tock.
How long have we got on this big hollow rock? What! Ch-ch-ch-ch-cheese.
One, two, three, four, race. Ch-ch-ch-ch-cheese.
One, two, three, four, -race. -Fuck a peace sign.
Yeah, I really meant it when I said it, never rewind.
Burning in the belly, in my eyes, and on a three-five. Trying to keep me calm, yeah, piping up, but on the decline.
I can't seem to keep quiet, right from the knee height.
Something 'bout the cut of him, that something doesn't seem right.
Stuck with his injustice in his buggy, and he's squeezed tight. Never let it go, and now he's foaming out on each side.
Better believe I tried.
Ch-ch-ch-ch-cheese.
One, two, three, four, race. Ch-ch-ch-ch-cheese.
One, two, three, four, -race. -Honey on a bun, secrets on a pillow.
Look what you gone and done. She said, "Fuck it," I said, "Ditto.
" Look, now we on the run, turning me like how we get home?
Look, I am not the one, yeah, honey on a -bun. -Johnny made a baby, Johnny made a beat.
Johnny's on the park bench, Bobby's on the beat.
No, the kids don't play heads and bodies in the street, singing, "Please let me land somewhere but the concrete.
" I'm weak at the knees, the birds, the bees. Falling love for free, burn the receipt.
Of course, I couldn't see, I turned the cheek.
If you got it all for free, then it weren't nothing cheap, you'll see.
English translation
Full pelt down a landslide, I'm swigging Listerine.
Wash away while I capsize in inabilities. You're not safe in this slag's mind, she wants a mini-me.
Run the race if you're rat-like, just keep a little cheese.
Press on play, you're on standby, and now you're middle-aged.
Second season, a sad sight, and daddy needs a raise.
The collector's a fat guy, keeps turning up with mates and demanding a plate when I just made a bolognese.
Ch-ch-ch-ch-cheese. One, two, three, four, race.
Ch-ch-ch-ch-cheese. One, two, three, four, race.
Honey on a bun, secrets on a pillow. Look what you gone and done.
She said, "Fuck it," I said, "Ditto. " Look, now we on the run, turning me like how we get home?
Look, I am not the one, yeah, honey on a bun, yeah.
Tick follows tock, follows tick, follows tock.
Tell me, how long have we got on this big hollow rock? Told me I'm too lit, I'm literally not.
Told me take it all off, but there's bits in my sock. I think it was room forty-seven.
She said forty-five minutes 'til the next session, so I'm guessing there won't be no fucking wedding. Always did love a happy ending, always did run it like the brethren.
Like the man, the myth, the legend. I'm fucking up a pack like I'm opening a present.
I'm fucking up the tick, follows tock, follows tick, follows tock.
How long have we got on this big hollow rock? What! Ch-ch-ch-ch-cheese.
One, two, three, four, race. Ch-ch-ch-ch-cheese.
One, two, three, four, -race. -Fuck a peace sign.
Yeah, I really meant it when I said it, never rewind.
Burning in the belly, in my eyes, and on a three-five. Trying to keep me calm, yeah, piping up, but on the decline.
I can't seem to keep quiet, right from the knee height.
Something 'bout the cut of him, that something doesn't seem right.
Stuck with his injustice in his buggy, and he's squeezed tight. Never let it go, and now he's foaming out on each side.
Better believe I tried.
Ch-ch-ch-ch-cheese.
One, two, three, four, race. Ch-ch-ch-ch-cheese.
One, two, three, four, -race. -Honey on a bun, secrets on a pillow.
Look what you gone and done. She said, "Fuck it," I said, "Ditto.
" Look, now we on the run, turning me like how we get home?
Look, I am not the one, yeah, honey on a -bun. -Johnny made a baby, Johnny made a beat.
Johnny's on the park bench, Bobby's on the beat.
No, the kids don't play heads and bodies in the street, singing, "Please let me land somewhere but the concrete.
" I'm weak at the knees, the birds, the bees. Falling love for free, burn the receipt.
Of course, I couldn't see, I turned the cheek.
If you got it all for free, then it weren't nothing cheap, you'll see.