Cliché Funk

Sanctified oatmeal mollified moonwalks grunting pockets of pith geranium joy and callous powder it’s nearly Hogmanay and I’m still not a Brit he who smelt it, smelts it gamma mocha rays and raisinettes on buttery tubs of rice pudding this is how we sell our solstice [pre-chorus]I got a shiny toy in the trunk By the time it surfaces, covered in gunk Got that cliché funk.[/prechorus] [chorus]Me? Dressed in black. Momma? Smiling through a heart attack.[/chorus] you who enjoy the short days the sun’s rays don’t faze but they’re underground and SAD hooked on fluorescence and antidepressants but we gab and gab and gab and SING! And the bells for Christmas RING! I don’t even own a scarf Just singing for a larf Metaphor for barf [pre-chorus]I got a shiny toy in the trunk By the time it surfaces, covered in gunk Got that cliché funk.[/prechorus] [chorus]Me? Dressed in black. Momma? Smiling through a heart attack.[/chorus] I had 50 good memories today Make it 51 I blinked approximately 2000 times. Out on the street we all look the same Shamed about our shameless brains And the three-legged men and Monica's stains “Oh god not that old chestnut,” I’m boasting in an open foyer [pre-chorus]I got a shiny toy in the trunk By the time it surfaces, covered in gunk Got that cliché funk.[/prechorus] [chorus]Me? Dressed in black. Momma? Smiling through a heart attack.[/chorus] Gotta find a way to end this ramble. Thicket thorn, rose bramble Semantic scramble. Cannibal ramble Hannibal the preamble? Mammal. 32 chromosomes. Has mobile phone. Sings in monotone. Make bad jokes, people groan... Ok Almost Finished. Now.