Show me yr knuckles they get you into trouble
They take and they shuffle the pieces of the puzzle
and yr punching at buildings and kicking notice boards in
no ideas just fighting just for the sake of fighting

And the singers they struggle to figure out the puzzle
and they boil and they bubble and yr nothing but trouble
these bruises and scars aren't from playing a guitar
they're from knockouts and blackouts and a creeping sense of self-doubt

This is taking too much time
watching puppies fall in line
and you go there for cheap wine
but you still forget to write
and it never means a thing
when the singers start to sing
and I'm tired of repetition but the clock is ticking

So we knuckle down and keep ourselves all stupid and scared
on the path of least resistance that will take us nowhere
I eat breakfast in the morning and my dinner at night
I'm fine with my unremarkable life

Patchwork and cross-stitch, no church sales for agnostics
we limp and we labour and owe no-one a favour
we're kings of our castle and we don't need the hassle
of drumsticks and burst lips and everyone's a critic

and we all seek white knuckles and all prepare for trouble
and there's locks on our cupboards and tinned food in our cellar
and we all hope our knuckles will keep us out of trouble
but we don't put our dukes up to burst our precious bubble

Jesus said
"well you all must stay in bed
or you wont get any bread
and I'll shoot you in the head
then you'll be dead
and your friends will be upset
and your life will be regret
and all remaining will be your debt"