POSTBOX Lyrics

In London Town, there's a postbox

And Charlie goes there everyday

But he won't say

What's the matter, little C?

If you told me you know I'd understand

You know I'd help you

I'd help you feel ok

You say this sickness is incurable

But I know that can't be true

If I keep up at this rate

I'll loose half my face

I miss you when you didn't bite your fucking cheek

Now it's bleak

Drown yourself in a creek

Seven days a week, you can't even sleep

You have chores to do

Chores invented by you

It's the worst

Open and close it

Open and close it

Open and close it

Open and close it

Open and close it

Open and close it

Open and close it

Open and close it

Open and close it

What's the matter, little C?

If you told me you know I'd understand

You know I'd help you

I'd help you feel ok

You say this sickness is incurable

But I know that can't be true

If I keep up at this rate

I'll loose half my face