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from American Smile, British Teeth by Chas Palmer-Williams

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lyrics

There’s roughly
Three million, seven hundred and seventy four thousand, nine hundred and sixty one Germs on that door handle right now
And each one is staring at me
Whispering to his mates
Look at the state of that guy
Let’s have an argument about an argument
Pretend it’s the first one this year, that’s fine
Because everybody generalises, everybody does, all of the time
Those gloves on the railings aren't lost
They’re waving
Im trying to see the positive in almost everything But that bloody crow
he left his size 3’s on my face
He’s footless and he’s footloose
Even he is smiling
We dropped in and out
We power slid our names in the concrete
Call me butter fingers
Call me margarine feet
Anybody's better than no one
At a time like this
As you talk about yourself for hours and what you do as you mine sweep that drink
I trip, i pretend to run, i carry on running.

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from American Smile, British Teeth, released May 4, 2015

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Chas Palmer-Williams England, UK

Chas is the singer from the band Lightyear. Respected for their work ethic, “unorthodox” live show and strong grass root origins
With detailed, clever, humorous and sad lyrics about Midlands pride (ahem), losing loved ones, the confusion of what happens when your life doesn't pan out the way you planned and an undying geek love for games workshop.
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