[Verse 1:]
Ring out the gong again!
Carve out this hymn in skin!
When the party blacks out again
you're still eating headlines out of the newspaper bin.
Slap the gong again!
Carve out this hymn in skin!
[Chorus:]
Happy birthday gelatins smearing bruises on your chin.
There's cake but no mouth, conch but no sound,
glossy skeletons boyfriends but no friends.
And that birthday greeting on you face
reads one more year of smiles faked. [x3]
[Verse 2:]
Ring out the gong again!
Carve out this hymn in skin!
When they've pissed between every sheet of your father's bed
those tears have barcodes waiting to be scanned/scammed.
And when they've hurled every gutted couch cushion
from the living room into your fathers swimming pool,
you're bobbing chlorine apples in the broth bucket of envy's gruel.
[Chorus:]
Happy birthday gelatins smearing bruises on your chin.
There's cake but no mouth, conch but no sound,
glossy skeletons boyfriends but no friends.
And that birthday greeting on you face
reads one more year of smiles faked. [x3]
[Coda:]
Ring! Ring! Ring out the gong!
Son now you've made it to the top of their list.
Congratulations your f*cking's greatest hit!
[Afterward:]
Behind husks of leather, photo albums shield their laughter.
You thought they'd make you breakfast the morning after?
Your fantasy season gangrened off the calendar.
The Blood Brothers - F*ckings Greatest Hits Lyrics
The Blood Brothers - F*ckings Greatest Hits Lyrics
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We currently do not have these lyrics.
If you would like to submit them, please use the form below.
[Verse 1:]
Ring out the gong again!
Carve out this hymn in skin!
When the party blacks out again
you're still eating headlines out of the newspaper bin.
Slap the gong again!
Carve out this hymn in skin!
[Chorus:]
Happy birthday gelatins smearing bruises on your chin.
There's cake but no mouth, conch but no sound,
glossy skeletons boyfriends but no friends.
And that birthday greeting on you face
reads one more year of smiles faked. [x3]
[Verse 2:]
Ring out the gong again!
Carve out this hymn in skin!
When they've pissed between every sheet of your father's bed
those tears have barcodes waiting to be scanned/scammed.
And when they've hurled every gutted couch cushion
from the living room into your fathers swimming pool,
you're bobbing chlorine apples in the broth bucket of envy's gruel.
[Chorus:]
Happy birthday gelatins smearing bruises on your chin.
There's cake but no mouth, conch but no sound,
glossy skeletons boyfriends but no friends.
And that birthday greeting on you face
reads one more year of smiles faked. [x3]
[Coda:]
Ring! Ring! Ring out the gong!
Son now you've made it to the top of their list.
Congratulations your f*cking's greatest hit!
[Afterward:]
Behind husks of leather, photo albums shield their laughter.
You thought they'd make you breakfast the morning after?
Your fantasy season gangrened off the calendar.
Ring out the gong again!
Carve out this hymn in skin!
When the party blacks out again
you're still eating headlines out of the newspaper bin.
Slap the gong again!
Carve out this hymn in skin!
[Chorus:]
Happy birthday gelatins smearing bruises on your chin.
There's cake but no mouth, conch but no sound,
glossy skeletons boyfriends but no friends.
And that birthday greeting on you face
reads one more year of smiles faked. [x3]
[Verse 2:]
Ring out the gong again!
Carve out this hymn in skin!
When they've pissed between every sheet of your father's bed
those tears have barcodes waiting to be scanned/scammed.
And when they've hurled every gutted couch cushion
from the living room into your fathers swimming pool,
you're bobbing chlorine apples in the broth bucket of envy's gruel.
[Chorus:]
Happy birthday gelatins smearing bruises on your chin.
There's cake but no mouth, conch but no sound,
glossy skeletons boyfriends but no friends.
And that birthday greeting on you face
reads one more year of smiles faked. [x3]
[Coda:]
Ring! Ring! Ring out the gong!
Son now you've made it to the top of their list.
Congratulations your f*cking's greatest hit!
[Afterward:]
Behind husks of leather, photo albums shield their laughter.
You thought they'd make you breakfast the morning after?
Your fantasy season gangrened off the calendar.
Writer: CODY VOTOLATO, JOHN WHITNEY, JORDAN BLILIE, MARK SUNIL GAJADHAR, MORGAN HENDERSON
Copyright: Lyrics © MOTHERSHIP MUSIC PUBLISHING
Copyright: Lyrics © MOTHERSHIP MUSIC PUBLISHING