Stan
I don't wanna talk to Stan he's making me nervous.
I know nothing of rugby or how good the beer is.
Frankly, weather talk and fast cars bore me senseless.
So no I don't wanna talk to Stan he's er, making me nervous.
Not when there's clouds in the sky all makin' faces.
Some dashing past leaving little rain traces.
Sometime foreign skies making exotic faces
So no I don't wanna talk to Stan he's making me nervous.
says he left his wife for a new life but I swear she left his
kicked him out, when she found out about his boob tube fetish
So I really Don't wanna talk to Stan he's ah making me nervous
Not with a universe beaming and there to be dreamt in
Moon dusted clusters of starry relaxings
Dark placed Kuiper, yet some lanterns flit in
The birds were singing and now the dogs are howling
Had a pot noodle for tea, his stomach is growling,
Terribly sad, ultimately depressing, the guy struggles dressing
but hey it could've been me