lirik lagu snack attack – godley and creme
midnight sat-rday sat in the dark, watching the ceiling falling apart. the
air-conditioner’s been busted for weeks, so the smell of cooking seeps
through the floor.
i can’t eat no more. they want me to be as light as a feather, so the
doctor’s wired my jaws together. now i’m locked in the bedroom away from
the food. so i lie on my back in the dark in the nude. i can’t eat no more.
i got to use a straw.
but if the devil dragged me down to the kitchen i wouldn’t put up a fight.
i’d gladly sign away my soul for a t-bone steak tonight.
i feel like kojak sitting in a cadillac. i gotta eat, i gotta eat a
flapjack. a stack, a rack, a six-pack jack. just call me jack kerouac.
click-clack open up the hatchback. i could eat a bubble car or a packamack,
pattacake, pattacake big mac, good god it’s a snack attack.
gimme sausage, egg and beans and chips,
milkshakes, clambakes, fondue & dips
and sauces, horses, 17 courses of barbequed beef with asparagus tips
rashers of bacon, bagels and lox and tandoori prawns and a box of chocs,
spaghetti with mussels, palma hams
& deep frozen waffles with syrup & jams.
my willpower’s gone i’m down on my knees, praying to the god of cottage
cheese. it’s no good trying i’ll never beat it, cos if it moves i’ll eat
it. so undo my trousers, let out the slack.
who cares it’s a snack attack. it’s a snack attack.
i feel like kojak sitting in a cadillac. i gotta eat, i gotta eat a
flapjack. a stack, a rack, a six-pack jack. just call me jack kerouac.
click-clack open up the hatchback. i could eat a bubble car or a packamack,
pattacake, pattacake big mac. good god it’s a snack attack. it’s a snack
attack. it’s a snack attack.
it’s a snack attack.
my father was a gents outfitter, my mother went crazy, they had to commit
her. they used to tell me don’t be a quitter, but i know deep down i’m the
runt of the litter.
i can’t eat no more.
i gotta use a straw.
how do you take an overdose or even pretend to do it, when the last straw
is the one in your mouth and you can’t suck sleepers through it.
i can’t eat no more. i gotta use a straw. but if the devil took me to
mexico to taste his guacamole. i’d gladly sign my name in blood
and give him the keys to my soul. because i can’t eat no more. i can’t eat
no more.
i feel like kojak sitting in a cadillac. i gotta eat, i gotta eat a
flapjack. a stack, a rack, a six-pack jack. just call me jack kerouac.
click-clack open up the hatchback. i could eat a bubble car or a packamack,
pattacake, pattacake big mac. good god it’s a snack attack. it’s a snack
attack. it’s a snack attack.
i feel like kojak sitting in a cadillac. i gotta eat, i gotta eat a
flapjack. a stack, a rack, a six-pack jack. just call me jack kerouac.
click-clack open up the hatchback. i could eat a bubble car or a packamack,
pattacake, pattacake big mac. good god it’s a snack attack. it’s a snack
attack.
midnight sunday asleep on the floor, curled up in the corner can’t take no
more. armies of food invade my sleep, led by lasagnas ten inches deep. my
head is pounding my heart is beating, cows are mooing sheep are bleating.
i’m being haunted by all the meat i’ve eaten.
and then a burglar alarm goes off in my head
and i wake up screaming am i dead or alive
and the clock says five. it’s only five in the morning. i’m covered in
sweat. am i hungry? you bet!
cold turkey’s what i’m going through. cold turkey’s what i need, but they
hung a sign on my appet-te saying “danger do not feed”.
i can’t eat no more. i got to use a straw.
i can’t eat no more. i can’t eat no more.
and they’ve even taken away the pictures of food i had on my wall. and my
treasured collection of menus, they screwed up into a ball, in front of my
face they flicked it out of the window into the night, but they’ll never
unscramble the combination, they’ll never get it right,
now if they made a feature film, that featured only food, i’d wallow in the
crowd scenes, while the rest of the aud
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