I gotta tell this little story bout me.
Heard this groove as I’m drowning my tea.
I heard a voice creeping up behind me.
It said something as an enemy…

The tempo’s slow in the morning,
I’d rather trip on a bass instead of yawning.
The tempo’s slow in the morning
Look at the clock see two pm my mum is calling.

I gotta pick up the phone or call later.
Juice, crosswords, up the radiator.
Check up on lazy food centre.
Another call this man thinks I’m his mentor !
I can’t see fuck all ‘cause I’m 50.
And when it come’s to trash I don’t feel to thrifty.
I gotta wash, clean, cook, have a cup a tea,
‘Cause my girl’s here at three fifty.

The tempo burns in the morning.
Check out the time I feel the hot water pouring.
The tempo burns every morning.
Look at the clock see two fifteen my lungs are mourning.

The tempo’s strange in the morning.
I gotta do this every do be damn day !
The tempo sucks in the morning.
I guess I gotta get a morning every damn day.

The tempo rows every morning.
My girl friend sleeps in the morning…