Sinister: Lord Antony mp3

jimmy bryant jimmybryant at xxx.com
Sat Nov 14 06:24:54 GMT 1998


I have never made an mp3 before, but since so many of you wanted to hear
this song I learned how to make one.  It turned out ok, I think.  I don't
have a web site to put it on, and it's taking up too much space on my hard
disk so I really can't keep it.  So I have decided to send it to the first
10 fellows within our own perverse little corner of cyberville who send me
an email with "Lord Antony" in the subject line.  What you do with it is up
to you, but you have to promise to buy this song, once it does become
available to us masses.

jimmy
thin_king
melted tolberone under your dress

 And for your convenience, here, once again, are the approximate lyrics:
(with buckets of thanks, kisses, and crushes to/on Roberta)

 Lord Ant(h)ony 

Anthony, bullied at school	
get your own back
now you are cool
or are you still drunk enough though you're a tough 
it's all gone wrong again you got to hold hands)
 
But the teachers got no control
Boys aren't lying 
You will stay quiet
Or you will die
 
Tony at the back of the gym	
Smoke another one, the chances are slim,
'Cause here they come again
They got you on the prowl
You're tasting blood again 
At least it's your own
 
When will you realize it doesn't pay 
To be smarter than teachers, smarter than most boys,
Shut your mouth, start kicking the football,
Bang on the teeth you were out for a week	

You may as well take it in the guts, it could get worse
just take it in the guts, it could get worse
just take it in the guts, it could get worse
just take it in the guts, it kind of hurts there (to me)
 
You'll soon be old enough to leave the man
Without a notion of a care
You'll leave two fingers in the air
to meager living

Tony, you bit of a mess
melted tolberone under your dress
But if the kids could see you they would pass you right by
The mascara running over your eye
 
Why don't you realize it doesn't pay 
To be smarter than teachers, smarter than most boys,
Shut your mouth, start kicking the football,
Bang on the teeth you were out for a week.

They call you lord Antony but hey it could be worse   
Lord Antony but hey it could be worse
Lord Antony but hey it could be worse
Lord Antony but hey it kind of suits you anyway

You'll soon be old enough to leave the man
Without a notion of a care
You'll leave two fingers in the air
to meager living

 

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