Sketchead
Sketchead
He's coming to your party
He's walking up your drive
And he's swinging all his keys 'round
Sketchead
He's seen you with your top off
He already knows your boyfriend
Retain your introductions
Sketchead
That cumbersome protagonist
The pips in your quince
The eye behind the spy hole
The itch you can't itch in your ear
And the knock that shattered your packet of peppermints
Sketchead
There's poison in his spit
He'll compliment your tits
And leave you to your wits
Sketchead
Convincingly insisting
The tyres were bald
When you gave him the car
Sketchead
Still coming to your party
Still walking up your drive
And still swinging all his keys 'round
On his finger
As a pendulum to unnerve
And then there's you, you've changed
I approach you like you were the same
But soon it was apparent a new name was required
New lips went and fired accomplishments at me
While I'm captivated by your magazine skin
The tint on your lens is obscured to begin
And you know full well
That anyone who says that they don't prefer the sequel
Will still be swinging on themselves tonight
