It’s a foreign food fired from hell
A walking world of kiss and tell
A samba tongue just to save their sugar skin.
 
They walk so tall they’re not there at all
As smug in the fog that’s smug in smog
They fan the flame to fire the civil war.
 
They pick a fight that they can fix
A lick of spit to sing the ship
They feed the street with hands that slip and leak.
 
The news is them but don’t get the clue
That the crew have few kind words for you
Still the fill the wards with open speak.
 
FFS! You’re a mess
Ah FFS! Clean up your mess.
FFS! You’re a mess
Ah FFS! Clean up your mess.
 
A crowd with a think is a dangerous thing
If they grow from the flow of a poisonous wing
As they stamp out your life and try to dispossess
 
So shout it out: FFS! You’re a mess.
 
FFS! You’re a mess
Ah FFS! Clean up your mess.

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