BUTCHER’S BIN

From BIG SPECIAL Their New Single BUTCHER’S BIN Video by Isaac Watson Click subscribe to hear more Listen here: Pre-order our debut album POSTINDUSTRIAL HOMETOWN BLUES: BIG SPECIAL Live: Instagram: / bigspecial_ (LYRICS) (Right! Well! Right! Oh well!) I am a Butcher’s bin Looking up at you A fresh bouquet of limbs Kiss me on my flaccid will Bring to me my tea and pill My husk atop your windowsill Stuck with ribboned pins (Well!) Toss my tongue to the dogs With my shoes and my socks With my cap and my coat With my bones and my chops I’m a bouquet of limbs And there’s nothing left to do I am a Butcher’s bin And so are you (Right!) I’ve earnt my chops They’re strung up in the street Everyone is on the jog, living off the beat Bricky, judge or dog It’s all just city meat Hanging in the shop fronts Strung up in the street (Well!) I’m swinging here - some singing hog I should give it up and get back on the job I can’t walk straight I’m just meat, dreams and gob Hang me on a hook, some singing hog (Right!) You don’t shoot the butcher when You’ve got a truckload of dead pigs I just want to keep my partner and my digs It’s just not clear what the payment is There’s stock in my pot I got some but not a lot The pocket is a void echoing “Gimme what ya got!“ But there’s no pay for strange labour To them it just seems I’ve too much time Like I’ve been granted some strange favour And spare time is a hard crime If it’s guts you want, I’ll fall on my sabre God is in purpose son And there’s no pay for strange labour (Well well well… Well! Right!) A big fan of the two step back You got some moves Jack Is that the tango or a heart attack? He had a voice of purest gold Lungs of deepest black Is that the tango or a heart attack? He had a voice of purest gold Lungs of deepest black (Huh!) I am a Butcher’s bin Looking up at you A fresh bouquet of limbs Kiss me on my flaccid will Bring to me my tea and pill My husk atop your windowsill Stuck with ribboned pins Toss my tongue to the dogs With my shoes and my socks With my cap and my coat With my bones and my chops I’m a bouquet of limbs And there’s nothing left to do I am a Butcher’s bin And so are you (Well! Right! Right! Oh well!)