[Intro] [Posh acoustic folk guitar plucking begins, suddenly interrupted by a filthy, wobbling bassline] (I say, that’s rather tender) (Good heavens, not again) [Verse 1] I was strolling through the gardens with a crumpet and a tea When a wayward cricket leather made a beeline for my knee But it drifted to the center with a gravitating force And it shattered every dream of having children, yes, of course An anatomical catastrophe, a philosophical mastery Of how a single impact could just trigger such a blasphemy It’s a perpendicular impact, specifically articular I’m feeling quite particular about my balls, spectacular (Oh, the humanity) The agony is stacking, see, the gravity is racking me I’m gasping for my breath because my sack is in a cavity My vision’s turning blurry like a Turner on a Tuesday I’ve gone from being alpha to a "never-going-to-use-they" [Chorus] [Future Bassline Drop - Aggressive and heavy] It’s a low-blow, slow-mo, oh-no calamity The crushing of my pride and the death of my vanity One wonk in the conks and I’m hitting the floor I’ve got two bruised plums and I can’t take no more (Bilateral bruising) (Collateral losing) Yes, the pendulum of agony is swinging for the core! [Verse 2] [Technical, skippy grime flow over a mandolin riff] Now I’m cautious as a cobra when I’m crossing over fences But the universe is mocking all my genital defenses I was sliding down a banister to show a bit of flair Now I’m hitting every spindle like a tonic for despair It’s a scrotal total, anti-teetotal, anecdotal Devastation of the station that was previously nodal I’m a virtuoso, although my soprano is a bit high I’m clutching at my trousers with a very distinct "goodbye" To my vigor and my valor, look at the pallor of my face I’m a technical disaster in the middle of the place (He’s gone purple) Yes, it’s triple-time, nickel-rhyme, hit 'em in the middle-time I’m paying for my sins and I didn't even commit the crime [Bridge] [Tempo remains high, but the bass drops out for a folk-heavy breakdown] I’ve tried the ice packs, I’ve tried the peas I’ve spent half my Saturday down on my knees Not in prayer, just in absolute strife The most painful three seconds in the whole of my life (Three, two, one, impact!) [Chorus] [Full energy - Bassline and Folk instruments colliding] It’s a low-blow, slow-mo, oh-no calamity The crushing of my pride and the death of my vanity One wonk in the conks and I’m hitting the floor I’ve got two bruised plums and I can’t take no more (Bilateral bruising) (Collateral losing) Yes, the pendulum of agony is swinging for the core! [Outro] [Wobble bass intensifies then abruptly stops] It’s a bit tender, isn't it? (Rather) I think I’ll just... lie here for a decade. Fetch the smelling salts, would you? [Final plucked mandolin note]
