Texting an Alien Lyrics

At the minute
At the minute I'm throwing biscuits down
O' Connell street, it's pointless and I don't why
I'm doing it to be honestAt the minute she's
At the minute
She's suggesting texting an alien
With custard on her hand with fastest tongue in IrelandAt the minute
At the minute I'm just wearing Lynx Africa and talking about putting crisps in pasta dishesAt the minute she's
At the minute she's putting the jackets on the coated tablets and listening to the new jet sounds or somethingOh sex pesto...It was all she knows from the tip of her tongue to the tip of her toesYou big weirdo licking flat coke from the horny nettles of BarcodeOut of it
Out of it
I look at them and I'm out of itOut of it
Out of it
I look at them and I'm out of itYeah I look at your photos to piss me off from time to time
I wish I had a cap gun for every time you said that one
Got sent to the office for whistling
What would it be like if everyone was whistling going around everywhere?
What would you do?Take a photo
of Quazimoto

I look like him and I'm out of itOut of it
Out of it
I look at him and I'm out of itShe races her slugs to their salt lines but you don't mind do you? Do you? Sometimes I wanna watch