Correction Lyrics Red Wine Lips by Jam Baxter

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Lyrics

Yeah, I hate to break it to you
But you're a plastic ballerina in a paper tutu
A skull plucked from a conveyor belt of doll's heads
Glued onto a body and screwed onto some false legs

So when that buck-toothed two year old lifts the lid
You better dance like a spinning pig
Apple in his mouth on a spit in the wild west crackling softly
With two forks in his pink skin just like blades in a bleeding zombie, here's a heads-up

Your room full of rotisserie chicken
Eaten shred by shred by a team of mystery women
Sat in the afterlife reading my obituary, grinning
He blew himself to bits and took the entire industry with him, sorry

I hate to be the bearer of bad news
But it would seem you're all just toddlers wearing your dad's shoes
You stared in disbelief at his cavernous size twelves like it had just hit him
Never stare at a man's hooves it's unhealthy

You waited out the night, the earth quakes
Sat sewing sequins on the skin of your preferred face
sh*t was all cool until a party of concerned snakes
Tunnelled through your eye sockets searching for your worst traits

I slithered in on some "hey sarge, I think we found him"
Every word he said was like a ninety minute indie album
Screeching through the tannoy with the volume stuck on fifty thousand
Pull the plug and switch 'em off, switch 'em off

Switch 'em off

Switch 'em off
The chicks took sly digs at his red wine lips
And murmured 'bout the insects that hide under his eyelids
The ones he did lines with
Maintaining is heavenly despite the devil gently slapping his face on every night shift

I pushed the tiny button on his chin
His face swang open to reveal the demons rummaging within
I assume the undercovers and the bleeding ex-lovers
Simply never bothered reading the instructions on his skin

I'm gone, the sun clambered up as we left
Draped in our gruesome sins, feeling comfortably dressed
All the creatures from the past who're all just drunkenly swept under the rug'll flicker back to life and come for me next

That's cruel[?]
Just gimme a desert plane to stare across
And let my body slowly disappear beneath a layer of moss
And if you're gonna tell us we ain't gods and we ain't solid gold then please provide a perforated tongue so we can tear 'em off

Tear 'em off

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