[Verse 1]
Found one bullet that can penetrate angels
Looking straight down at these 28 staples
See my age like a semi-buff unhinged bitch in denial that could never stay faithful
Got the wench in bed with my past with the rave crew, bright eyes drenched in the dark
They were spewing out chewed up news from a few years back , can you hear that?
(Bruv, where the beer at?)
Seventeen teenage kicks to the cranium, foot-long wound full of tough titanium
Snapped arm swinging in the Mediterranean, steps to developing the flesh of an alien
The perils of a rock-star spread with his brains ripped out
When the flames lick round the horizon
The shock set the sea alight, freeing every demon I see at night
Skipping on a wave of excitement
It's strange
Rip every plug from the mains
Excuse my excuses, delusional thoughts mix well with the numbness
A cocktail best served dashed in the drain
So retreat, tie up the noose with your teeth
Leap from the black and blue world at your feet
See 'em swing see 'em twitch, I was busy banging chicks, getting fucked with the freaks
And just when you think you surpassed mortality, master of all in a cardboard galaxy
The last black hole threw my passport back at me, a border control handcuffed to reality
Bleep bleep, shackle him!
Old men in hospital gowns stammering
It just takes one gallon of paraffin
To burn a whole planet of inanimate mannequins
And either, I'll strike the match for you and back away a diamond encrusted creature or
We can all morph into plastic in shop-front displays at the rave at the front left speaker
A second rate jesus with scarlet fever turns old single malt to bacardi breezer on the corner
And talks with a dark demeanor about that regression
[Verse 2]
Summertime and the living was simple, uncut Bolivian and hideous crystal
Star prize for the millionth ring-pull, if it's gone too far give me a signal
Taking care of yourself is a mug's game, freeze in excitement and melt in the mundane
I'll be right here, trippin' out bobbing up and down
Ripping out limbs and I wouldn't make one change
Well, well, well
I might make one
Shit
Stick around for the ice age son, son
Slip a bright tint on a soul-snapping par
Yeah, shit, but never pick at that volcanic scar!
Stepping in a parallel dimension, filled full of maggots and their paranoid henchmen
An awkward exchanges by collared up quacks and amputee geeks at the grim-out convention
Spill out the bedroom, tramp in a slut-suit swing for your outline, rape your reflection
A pig-headed chef force feeds an infection, a stump-toothed child with a six-figure pension
Queue for the cheque, the wrinkles on the rips never suited my flesh
I was stretched on a next front page of the rocket fuel catalogue
Smashed mirrors glued to my chest, high-v
Still grimey, slumped in the stocks
Funny how we all must've shrunk in the wash
But could never stay clean, forever eighteen
Take 28 reasons to renovate , scream
Describing being defibrillated – high voltage applied across two silver plates.
Just wanted to point out how much I fucking love this part.
It sounds like “Relevate” to me.
Baxter breaking his arm has reminded him of his mortality, or that such an event could challenge his guardian angel.
He was also around 28 when he wrote this tune, and goes on to comment that he no longer feels as invincible at this age and that his youth isn’t faithful – it seems to leave at every opportunity.
The “second rate Jesus” he refers to could be a health professional making recommendations about handling his alcoholism. Bacardi breezer has a lower alcohol content than single malt.
The crowd Baxter was surfing on is constantly compared to a sea, and in this case, the Mediterranean. “Flesh of an alien” most likely refers to the characteristic dry skin of drug users.
Typical thing to happen at a festival. People high and/or drunk telling stories.