Not A Sodding Clue

by Skadown

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1.
02:25
2.
3.
4.
5.
03:10

about

It has been many years (well, one) since Skadown formed by two people with the most generic names available: Matt Johnson, and Jack Coles. This debut EP deals with some of the issues closest to their hearts: drinking, the Internet, going out and drinking, music, labs, money, and drinking. Available for free download for a limited time (heat death of the universe seems like a good estimate).

credits

released February 9, 2016

Matt Johnson (drums and vocals).
Jack Coles (bass, guitars, vocals in Some Suck Some Rock).
Will Cummings (mixer, tech wizard, vocals in Some Suck Some Rock).
Michael Rosen (vocals in £2.20).
[Spunge] (wrote Some Suck Some Rock).

tags

license

about

Skadown England, UK

A vegan and a steak lover making stupid music.

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Track Name: £2.20
Why all the Jager, you don't have a cough.
Stop drinking Pinot Grigio, you look like a toff.
You only like your ale when it's brewed in a sock,
So sip your fucking mocktails you pretentious cock!

We've had five too many, too drunk to stand,
In the middle of the high street with our heads in our hands.
It's not big nor clever, to forget to remember.
You're not an oxymoron, just the last five letters!

Sat in a bus lane, too far gone, mate.
It's good the #67 doesn't drive here this late.
We would have got a taxi, but last time you blundered,
We were about to get in and then you fucking chundered.

[Chorus]

I'm not saying that ignorance is bliss.
All I'm saying is drunkenness is.
I'm not saying that ignorance is bliss.
All I'm saying is "fucking down it"!

Barely get your keys in, and you stumble through the door.
And after just a few steps, you're on the kitchen floor. (Ah, shit.)
Turn on late-night telly, and you focus on the screen.
You see yourself on "Bouncers", now you know where you've been!

(Uh, 'scuse me mate, could you step out the taxi, please?)

[Chorus]
Track Name: 200% Triggered
(Ah fuck, I can't believe you've done this.)

Everybody says I avoid confrontation,
Which is why I'm surprised I'm in this situation.
I know I'm not a bastion of morality,
But the subject raised was a piece of triviality.

You can't see love and respect,
With black clouds always over your head.
The harder you struggle, the harder they snigger,
And laugh that you're 200% triggered.
It's not a fight.
Not an argument.
You're just in the wrong.

I'm not Derren Brown, not a mind-reader.
With all that sensitivity, what do they feed ya?
If something sets you off then warn us first,
And then you can blame us if we make you feel worse.

[Chorus]

Fuck your name-calling, fuck your fact-shaming!
How can we have progress without any sort of conversation?
Fuck your name-calling, fuck your fact-shaming!
How can we get anywhere when dealing with this confrontation?

If I knew you'd get so angry, I wouldn't have said it.
I know it's a bad habit to repeat things off Reddit.
The thing is, the joke wasn't sexist or racist,
It was about cheese. (Sorry, heard you wrong there!)

[Chorus]

We're all in the wrong.
We're all in the wrong.
We're all in the wrong.
We're all in the wrong.

We're all in the wrong. (You can't see love and respect,)
We're all in the wrong. (With black clouds always over your head.)
We're all in the wrong. (The harder you struggle, the harder they snigger...)
We're all in the wrong.
Track Name: Clubbing is Shit
I walk into the club, like "what's up, where is the pub?"
I don't know why we come here anymore.
Fuck the six-quid entry fee, I'd rather be home, sat on the settee,
Keeping my eyes on the rugby score.

Well, it's 2am with strangers around,
And the couple right next to me have bumped and ground.
And it's £5.50 for a pint of Magners,
And they don't play any good bands, like Madness.

I know this isn't the place for me.
But my friends say it's the place to be.

Well, I enjoyed the pre-drinks, but down here it's too loud to think,
And this treble-vodka tastes like someone's mung.
I walk into the Men's room, but I saw a guy in there doing shrooms,
And he dropped his pants and screamed "I'm super hung!"

But I'm still stuck in the club for now,
I'm still awake and I don't know how.
And the "Blurred Lines" types are starting again;
Dave, Steven, Adrian, and Ben.

[Chorus]

And the music keeps repeating itself,
And the music keeps repeating itself,
And the music keeps repeating itself,
And the music keeps repeating itself...

My mates want a taxi back,
But I spent all my money, I ain't got jack.
And on the way home a homeless bloke
Asks for spare change, but we're all broke. Why?

We spent it on a fucking six-quid entry fee!
And one of my friends has gone off for a pee, in the street.

And I get into bed, and I hate myself,
As the music keeps repeating itself,
And the music keeps repeating itself,
And the music keeps repeating itself,

And the music keeps repeating itself, (I know this isn't the place for me.)
And the music keeps repeating itself, (But my friends say it's the place to be.)
And the music keeps repeating itself, (I know this isn't the place for me.)
And the music keeps repeating itself... (But my friends say it's the place to be...)
And the music keeps repeating itself, (I know this isn't the place for me.)
And the music keeps repeating itself, (But my friends say it's the place to be.)
And the music keeps repeating itself, (I know this isn't the place for me.)
And the music keeps repeating itself... (But my friends say it's the place to be...)
And the music keeps repeating itself, (I know this isn't the place for me.)
And the music keeps repeating itself, (But my friends say it's the place to be.)
And the music keeps repeating itself, (I know this isn't the place for me.)
And the music keeps repeating itself... (But my friends say it's the place to be...)
Track Name: Safe Mate
I know a guy - well, a friend of a friend.
He can get me stuff that's super high-end.
He calls it "cannabis", but we call it "weed".
Twenty quid's worth is all that I need.

Safe mate, have you got any pot?
I want enough to get torched out my bun.
Just twenty quid is all that I want,
I hope that I can get some clouds out in Abberton.

My drug dealer's gone back to the pen,
So now I need another contact again.
Met a guy in the car with the dodgy steering,
And a 2:1 in Chemical Engineering.

Safe mate, have you got any coke?
I want enough to ice a cake.
Why are you laughing, mate, this isn't a joke?
You're high, I'm high, we're no longer awake.

That guy was a massive tool,
So I called an old mate from school.
She said that her flatmate had lab access,
And of the research chemicals would sell the excess.

Safe mate, have you got any ket?
I want to rack a line as long as my thumb.
Just a tenner's worth so I can get set.
One more hit and I'm done, one more and I'm fucking done.

Safe mate, you know you've got me fucking trapped!
Save me! You know you've got me trapped! Trapped!

Safe mate, where's the clinic?
I've got a sore throat, and a nasty cough.
Withdrawal symptoms aren't a picnic,
And all these drugs made my nob fall off.