Scunthorpe Shirt Potato 

This isn't for eyes!
This isn't for eyes!
This isn't for us!
This isn't for you!
This isn't for eyes.

This ought to hurt you
Tell all of the club
Sit down and die
Alone
This ought to walk
To say
We lie
Is all away from eyes
Piss all away our time.

We are
Terrible and we should
Shut it all away

Shut it all away
Shut it all away
Shut it all away

Take the blood sound away for all time crying.
Time has seen my name wither away 
We all burn in the eye called time.

Times are slowly changing...
Eyes are slow healing...
Tongues are set wagging...
Salt marshes calling...

Symbiotic.

REASONING.

This song grew out of a stupid concept, our guitarist, Adam, went on a night out to Scunthorpe, why? We don't know... BUT while there, a young lady bared a breast, just the one, to show she had been pierced, Adam, obviously revelling in this fact, recounted the tale to us in a way he only could, using the phrase "shirt potato". As a resident of Lincolnshire, Adam had unwittingly been caught in the whole Lincolnshire etiquette, where one shies away from using a word as vulgar as "breast" or "boob" swapping it with an almost worryingly strange substitute. My lyrics here are just to highlight prudishness as a negative aspect, it irks me that people can't just say what they mean sometimes, and indeed, mean what they say. The "Oh God, put it away" aspect of this song demonstrates this nicely I feel.