dyx75ngwzq🎵 Tales from the Twat Parade 🎵
(Parody of Arctic Monkeys’ early style)
[Verse 1]
He’s neckin’ Carling in the bogs again, the filthy little muppet
Says he’s “on the sesh,” but he’s just skint and nickin’ nuggets
Flickin’ fags at traffic lights,
Actin’ like he’s ‘ard in tights
Wears a Burberry knock-off coat,
But the dickhead’s feet are soakin’ wet in plimsolls, mate, no joke
[Pre-Chorus]
She’s screamin’ outside Wetherspoons
Said someone “looked at her all rude”
But it was a pigeon
No one listens
’Cept her mate who’s chattin’ up some bloke with a vape and trust issues
[Chorus]
Oh it’s Friday night, and they’re all on parade
Like a circus of bellends you wish had just stayed
At home in their shells, but they’re out instead
Wavin’ plastic pints like they’re stormin’ the fed
And I think I’ve seen it all but they always outdo it
Every knobhead in town, tryin’ not to look stupid
But they fail so well, and I’m takin’ the piss
‘Cause I live for the tales from the twat parade, this is bliss
[Verse 2]
There’s Gaz, he’s tried to scrap a bin
Lost a f***t with the wind
And Kezza’s cryin’ ‘cause her lashes fell in a puddle again
“You don’t know me!” she roars to a copper
Who’s more bored than a nun at a rave in Mallorca
And I’m lurkin’ by the chippy, hot sausage in me pocket
Tryin’ not to get glassed by some berk off his rocket
[Pre-Chorus]
She’s neckin’ WKDs like they’re vintage champagne
And he’s showin’ off his chest tat that says “f**k the pain”
So profound, mate
You’re a poet, now wait—
You just spewed on your trainers and called it fate
[Chorus]
Yeah it’s Saturday now, and they’re still goin’ strong
All these Poundland gangsters with their tribal thong
Sniffin’ lines in the bog of a Greggs, no less
Gettin’ banned from the pub for a TikTok mess
And I think I’ve peaked but I can’t look away
It’s like Love Island crashed into a motorway
What a show, what a night, what a beautiful sh*t
These are tales from the twat parade, and I’m lovin’ it
[Bridge]
You can’t write this
