He's coming to your party
He's walking up your drive
And he's swinging all his keys round
SketcheadHe's seen you with your top off
He already knows your boyfriend
retain your introductions
SketcheadThat cunts a protagonist
The pips in your quince
They are behind the spoil
The itch you can't itch in your earAnd the knock that shattered your packet of peppermints
Sketchead
There's poison in his spit
He'll compliment your titsAnd leave you to your wits
Sketchead
Convincingly insisting the tyres were bald
when you gave him the carSketchead
Still coming to your party
Still walking up your drive
And still swinging all his keys round on his fingerAs a pendulum to un nerve
And then there's you
You've changed
I approach you like you were the sameBut 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 limbs is obscures to beginAnd you know full well
That anyone who says that
They don't prefer the sequel
Will still be swinging on themselves tonight