(x4)
Sank into their calculations
And snorted on a stench
Of their arithmetic
Look for the boy who was hanging his head low
More trophies and ideas
To follow their pretend
Chorus:
With a scowl in his pocket and a smile on his face
He followed with obedience and fell in the nettles
(x4)
Afterwards those spiky whispers
Said he brought his own rope
And skipped the bits they loathed
Didn’t scramble to find a dock leaf
And capture back our hope
To advice, his mind had closed
He lost all of his foot holes
Chorus:
With a scowl in his pocket and a smile on his face
He followed with obedience and fell in the nettles
Fell in the nettles, fell in the nettles
He was a toothpick and the garlic and the cinder upon the path
Had failed to blunt or hinder the slow collapse
And clinging to the door frame, he was trapped
Off to a reminder of where he had been
(x4)
Chorus:
With a smile in his pocket and a scowl on his face
There was nowhere to flee, so sat content in the nettles
Louder!
(x4)