I may have had one or two shandies too many last night, but then you know that already.
I may have overdone it on the lime pickle and the red onions, too - but then you know that, too.
Oh yes.
Oh yes.
Join in, now...
I may be late for work,
I may be in a hurry,
I may be about to fill my pants with internally processed curry.
My face is getting redder,
But still you don't turn green,
Because you're a fucking traffic light and you're Just Plain Mean.
You stand on every corner,
You're everywhere I look!
But of my smooth traverse to work you couldn't give a fuck.
You stay on red for ages,
Beeping while children cross,
Even though pe-des-trians are merely fucking dross.
You're tall and bright and flashy,
Annoying on all fronts,
Yes you AND your Belisha mates are a twattish bunch of cunts.
I really really hate you,
I really hope you melt,
Instead as per fucking usual my collar will be felt.
'Cos you'll grass me to the coppers,
Send them a colourful snap,
Then wonder why dogs just look at you and immediately take a crap.
Traffic lights I hate you,
No wonder you're often hit,
And anyone who dis-agrees is a snivelling Green Party shit.