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Laugh. Laugh will they.
Well let them laugh.
I saw this hole when it was nothing
But a worn rag on a shoestring.
And I see it now,
Bent old wreck that I am
With a slut of a daughter
Hanging on my back.
They'll all be bent soon enough.
Every last one of them'll be bent
Like a dead bush.
Stand there
Like fat ducks over the bar,
Always looking to see
If the next one'll suck up his words
Like his mother's milky tit:
'Hey Kelly, Hey Kelly!
How's your daughter, Kelly?
Knocked up again, Kelly?'
They'll all know soon enough.
They'll all find a yellow haired Mary
And dream big busting dreams
And build penny by penny,
Scrap by scrap,
Till all of a sudden it's forty years later
And chances don't come to broken old men
With bitches for grandchildren
And sluts for their own kids.
Let them laugh.
They'll all be stamping
On their own tongues
Before they know it.
I got time left
So's I can catch the first signs
Of their crumbling before I crack.
Old Kelly's got one laugh yet.
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