I Can Count Up To Potato, by DMPH

I Can Count Up To Potato

by DMPH

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	1.	DMPH - ‘I Can Count Up To Potato’ 05:10	lyrics	buy track
	A thousand tomorrows ago A million yesterdays ahead Nothing makes me happy Everything makes me sad I can count up to potato Trace my ancestors back to dad Everything makes me happy Nothing makes me sad Ignite a month’s pay To sit half a mile away From the clown on the stage Complaining of being poor Listen to them moan Down the wrong end of the microphone Missed the last train home Cos of the iconic encore There’s the horsey sore that set my hips a-thrusting Eyebrow-licking Lothario’s love battery’s ever-lusting Hush the flies out and brush the dust in Scrapping for a crumb is doing my crust in A thousand tomorrows ago A million yesterdays ahead Nothing makes me happy Everything makes me sad I can count up to potato Trace my ancestors back to dad Everything makes me happy Nothing makes me sad Flush away a month’s pay To sit half a mile away From the joker on the stage Singing straight from the colon Fat hands, phonebook emote They’re on and it’s remote Time to go, grab your coat Happy days; it’s been stolen To the two pus-balls laying on Shrugby pitch horizontal I’m a nine-eyed dog, a leg-headed frog, a bun-loving ensemble A lizard-feathered tuba, the crown of the quing of Cuba One of God’s pubic lice, a top hat made of mice Time flies by, as do I And when I make a later circuit The pus-balls left, pitch is bereft, Cowering ’neath a concrete carpet It must be thrilling, to be down there milling ‘mong the under crowd If one would raise their face, they’d see me And just mutter “Cloud…”

about

I CAN COUNT UP TO POTATO

A thousand tomorrows ago
A million yesterdays ahead
Nothing makes me happy
Everything makes me sad
I can count up to potato
Trace my ancestors back to dad
Everything makes me happy
Nothing makes me sad

Ignite a month’s pay
To sit half a mile away
From the clown on the stage
Complaining of being poor
Listen to them moan
Down the wrong end of the microphone
Missed the last train home
Cos of the iconic encore

There’s the horsey sore that set my hips a-thrusting
Eyebrow-licking Lothario’s love battery’s ever-lusting
Hush the flies out and brush the dust in
Scrapping for a crumb is doing my crust in

A thousand tomorrows ago
A million yesterdays ahead
Nothing makes me happy
Everything makes me sad
I can count up to potato
Trace my ancestors back to dad
Everything makes me happy
Nothing makes me sad

Flush away a month’s pay
To sit half a mile away
From the joker on the stage Singing
straight from the colon
Fat hands, phonebook emote
They’re on and it’s remote
Time to go, grab your coat
Happy days; it’s been stolen

To the two pus-balls laying on
Shrugby pitch horizontal
I’m a nine-eyed dog, a leg-headed frog,
a bun-loving ensemble
A lizard-feathered tuba,
the crown of the quing of Cuba
One of God’s pubic lice,
a top hat made of mice

Time flies by, as do I
And when I make a later circuit
The pus-balls left, pitch is bereft,
Cowering ’neath a concrete carpet
It must be thrilling, to be down there milling
‘mong the under crowd
If one would raise their face, they’d see me
And just mutter “Cloud…”

(Hamilton/Murphy)

credits

released July 7, 2022

Written, performed and produced by Doug Murphy & Paul Hamilton
Special Guest: Annabelle Gollop
Mixed and mastered by Si Beex. Hear him here at megafonik.bandcamp.com/music
Graphic image by Dave Pope (based upon a Halal Mop Unit inkling)

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© Smoking Ant Records, 2022

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