John Grant - Grey Tickles, Black Pressure lyrics

I did not think I was
The one being addressed
In hemorrhoid commercials on the TV set
I often stand and stare
At nothing in the grocery store
Because I do not know
What to buy to eat any more

And parapraxis is the order of the day
I never heard that word
Until tonight I have to say
And I'm supposed to believe
That there's some guy
Who will take the pain away

And there are children who have cancer
And so all bets are off
Cause, I can't compete with that
So all bets are off
Cause, I can't compete with that

I've got grey tickles and black pressure
And I'd rather lose my arm
Inside of a corn thresher
Just like Uncle Paul just like Uncle Paul
I, I, I

They won't be happy til
They tear down everything
Which looks remotely cool
Or is older than two weeks
You must be kidding me
Except I do know better than to ask

I can't believe I missed
New York during the 70's
I could have gotten a head start
In the world of disease
I'm sure I would have contracted
Every single solitary thing

And there are children who have cancer
And so all bets are off
Cause, I can't compete with that
So all bets are off
Cause, I can't compete with that

I've got grey tickles and black pressure
And I'd rather lose my arm
Inside of a corn thresher
Just like Uncle Paul just like Uncle Paul
I, I, I

They say let go let go let go
You must learn to let go
If I hear that fucking phrase again
This baby's gonna blow
Into a million it'sy bit'sy tiny pieces
Don't you know
Just like my favorite scene in Scanners

Apparently there was an outcry
Of some sort today
Which no-one heard incidentally and
By the way i have not had the strength
To leave my place in days or weeks
And I'll never understand
Whats happening in the Middle East

And there are children who have cancer
And so all bets are off
Cause, I can't compete with that
So all bets are off
Cause, I can't compete with that

I've got grey tickles and black pressure
And I'd rather lose my arm
Inside of a corn thresher
Just like Uncle Paul just like Uncle Paul
I, I, I

I've got grey tickles and black pressure
And I'd rather lose my arm
Inside of a corn thresher
Just like Uncle Paul just like Uncle Paul
I, I, I