Early Christmas Present - Kate Nash
Cause if you run into the eye of the storm
To get round the back
You better hit the floor
Cause screaming
No, I can’t take it
I can’t take it
I can’t take it anymore
Til your eyes and your mouth is sore
Doesn’t help anyone
Doesn’t do any good
But you’d do something else
If you only could
And I wish I could grow up
Wish I could be well behaved
But every time I look her in the eye
I send him to the grave
And that pretty, pretty girl
With her nice sweet lips
With your eyes on her chest
And your hands on her hips
This itch, this burn
This pain, this strain
Dealing, turned out
Need a cream to
Help it go away
So thanks for
Leaving me
The gift you gave him
