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It always happens in coffee shops And I'm always hungover when someone wants to talk And don't get me wrong, I like talking when it's a healthy back-and-forth exchange But some people always wanna lecture me and try to make me change He says 'You are a mystery, aren't you' And considering he hasn't shut up long enough for me to string two words together Yes that's me, Miss Mystery And he's quiet for a time And I think that might be a good sign Til there's a glint in his eye and I realise he's just making more sentences in his mind And here it comes, and there's nothing I can do I take a sip, I take a breath He licks his lips and he's opening his mouth, and it's: Songtexte Blah blah blah blah blah blah blah Blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah Blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah dog diggity blah Like a steamtrain Like an onslaught Like a machine gun loaded with your opinions but it's incoherent ammunition and your words aren't very wounding weapons when they're inflicted on me And I know you mean well With your deep wells of advice And your buckets of swelled self-righteousness Hell, you're just trying to be nice And you're nice, but you state your views like they are facts of life And I hate that, and I tell you And I brace myself for the reply, it's gonna be: Blah blah blah blah blah blah blah Blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah Blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah dog diggity blah He says, 'You never were much of a talker' Well this isn't talking This is being cornered I'm being cornered by you And I can't get away From this table for two in the corner of this bright corner café And didn't we have this same conversation last week? It's not that I don't like you - I just wish you wouldn't speak: Blah blah blah blah blah blah blah Blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah Blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah dog diggity blah I see he's made a list Of pressing topics of discussion Competing with the clanking coffee cup percussion And I guess we'll start with number one On the first A4 page Past the setting of the sun And the pouring of the lattes And here it comes, it's coming and there's nothing anyone can do I take a sip I grip the chair He opens his big, wet slippery mouth: Blah blah blah blah blah blah blah Blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah Blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah dog diggity blah Aus Songtexte Mania