Instant Chicken Karma

Things I do when I get up, 
Clean my teeth and drink a cup
Kiss the wife and tell her stuff 
Anything I’m in a rush
Catch the train sometimes it’s there
If it’s not I stamp and swear
Make all the commuters stare 
They wish that they were anywhere

To say I’m bored would be an understatement of the greatest magnitude   
I can’t complain, but then again, I do, I’ve got a lousy attitude

Morning mate how’s your weekend?
As if I cared my tiny friend
Make some tea and use the phone
I’m at work wish I was home
Dogs on string and nose earrings 
Beg, beg, beg, whinge, whinge, whinge
Any change? there’s no change here 
I’ve been a git for many years

Mr Scrooge got nothing on me Christmas past and presents are all crap
The future is all history lets shove the children up the chimney stacks

Things to do and things to not 
When to start and when to stop
I made the plans that time forgot 
Wound up and beaten by the clock
Things I do when I get down 
I drink and drink until I drown
Wake up in another town 
Funny faces all around

They scan the stars for intelligent life forms from far distant galaxies
That’s ‘cos they never found it here just take a look at what’s on your TV

Twinkle, twinkle little eye 
How I often wonder why
The thought of you still makes me cry
Twinkle, twinkle little eye

Things I do when I drop dead 
Not a lot it must be said

Words by Brine E.C.
Music by Brine E.C./COD
© Brine E.C.1993. 
℗ COD 1994. 
All Rights Reserved

In his wig and highchair sits in judgement on us all
He thinks that all the perverts should be strung up by the balls 
Passing out his sentences the maximum by law 
His character's impeccable, he's only got one flaw

In the dead of night in search of his delight 
Down the spiral stairs the rope is waiting there

His lordship's new invention is a curious device 
His sexual intention is against all sound advice 
He puts the rope around his neck and tightens with a vice
The rubber mask, one doesn't ask why it should be so nice

In the dead of night in search of his delight
Down the spiral stairs, the rope is waiting there

Tight around his throat, tight until he chokes
His hands start to explore, can he take much more

The next day he's on his way his duties to perform 
Put away some criminals, complete another form
He'd like to bring back hanging, he'd like to hang 'em high 
He would do the job himself; he really wouldn't mind

He plays a dangerous game; he won't enjoy the fame 
He does it one last time, it's really not a crime

All the Sunday papers have a duty to inform 
The public interest must be served, it’s interested in porn 
And so, the door burst open, its camera, action, lights 
The Hanging Judge is hanging there it really is a sight

In the dead of night in search of his delight
Down the spiral stairs, the rope is waiting there

The Hanging Judge is hanging there it really is a sight 
And in the end, he couldn’t tell between what’s wrong and right

Words by Brine E.C.
Music by Brine E.C./COD
© Brine E.C.1993. 
℗ COD 1994. 
All Rights Reserved

I called the Lord up on the telephone
The Angel on reception said he wasn't at home 
He just went out to get some fags & beer
Maybe call you back in about a million years

I said it's urgent, I need to have a chat
I wasted 40 years and I want some of them back
The Angel said I'll put in on your file
See you at the gates of hell in time for the trial.

I need a restart from the age of ten 
I screwed it up and I wanna start again
You made the world in only 7 days
This would be an easy thing for you to arrange.

When I was four they dumped me off at school
I couldn't understand why there were so many rules
I didn't fit in with the other kids
I never really cared about what Katy did

The teachers said I had an attitude
I only had to look and they considered me rude
A real bad apple rotten to the core
Kick him out the barrel he’s infected some more

I need a restart from the age of ten 
I screwed it up and wanna start again
You made the world in only 7 days
This would be an easy thing for you to arrange.

Maybe I could make a deal with the other one
Mr Mephistopheles you need another son?
I can't go down too much further, 
nowhere left to run 
I'll dance into the flames of hell 
to be forever be forever, be forever young.

I couldn't see me in the marketplace
Couldn’t find a round hole to fit my face
So, give me credit put me in the black
I blew away the years and I want some of them back

I need a restart from the age of 10
I screwed it up I wanna start again
You made the world in only 7 days
This would be an easy thing for you to arrange.

Words by Brine E.C.
Music by Brine E.C./COD
© Brine E.C. 1993. 
℗ COD 1994. 
All Rights Reserved

Mr Beerhead gets his Giro
Signs his name in shaking biro
It's eleven pubs are open
Time to cash his new beer token
He's the first in all is quiet
So resumes his all-beer diet
3 hours later beer is talking
You're his best mate, Christ it's boring

Mr Beerhead sorts the problems of the world
Amazing when you think he's on pint number 12 

There is no problem, Mr Beerhead cannot solve
With just another beer to steady his resolve
Oh no Mr Beerhead he has to get them in before he is dead

Mr Beerhead in the toilet
He's got damp patch, best ignore it
He leans over, again we meet
Shakes my hand and wets my feet
Mr Beerhead gets unstable
He falls headfirst on the table
Pints are flying
Skinheads eyeing 
Get him out if you are able

The landlord thinks that Mr Beerhead's had enough
But Mr Beerhead cannot understand the fuss
As far as he's concerned, he's sober as a judge
Even Ronnie Kray can't make the bastard budge 
Wo Oh Mr Beerhead

Mr Beerhead, back from the pub
He's got Chinese, he's got lager
Way, he walks, like Douglas Bader

Mr Beerhead thinks he needs another drink
To make some room he throws up in the kitchen sink
Turns your washing up a nasty shade of pink
Wo oh it's Mr Beerhead
Got to get them in before he is dead

Words And Music by Brine E.C. 
Additional Musical Arrangements by COD
© Brine E.C. 1993 
℗ COD 1993 
All Rights Reserved

The I.R.A. made my train late today
Out on the street there’s a beggar to pay
Apart from that it’s a beautiful day 
For someone like me 
Cos, I remember a time 
Before the kids were computerised
In a place where the sun always shines
On young Valerie

In the Blue Peter Garden, the sky is blue, but the TV is grey
World of sticky back plastic here’s one I made earlier today

Got no money for stocks and shares 
But I don’t worry I just don’t care
Cos I can make up a dolls house with chairs 
From flour, glue and eggboxes
A dog called Petra,
A white-knuckle ride 
A sex change tortoise 
A hamster that died 
Back in the days when we used to catch flies 
And put them in matchboxes

In the Blue Peter Garden, the sky is blue but the TV is grey
World of sticky back plastic here’s one I made earlier today

A baby elephant from London Zoo 
He caused a stink he caused a to do
He made a toilet out of studio two 
And trod on Pete Purves feet
Oh, how we cried when Petra died 
We sent in bottle tops and much more besides
And two years later got a dog for the blind 
And John Noakes said, get down Shep

In the Blue Peter Garden, the sky is blue, but the TV is grey  
World of sticky back plastic here’s one I made earlier today  

In the Blue Peter Garden 
In the Blue Peter Garden 
In the garden of Peter 
In the garden of Petra
Inna Garda da vita etc

In the Blue Peter Garden (Where Everything is Cool)
In the Blue Peter Garden (Where Everything is Cool)
In the Blue Peter Garden (Where Everything is Cool)
In the Blue Peter Garden (Where Everything is Cool)

Words by Brine E.C.
Music by Brine E.C./COD
© Brine E.C. 1993. 
℗ COD 1994. 
All Rights Reserved