By Duncan Ratters, on June 2nd, 2010
I need time, I don’t need people like you breaking my mind
And showing me signs,
Oh no, I wanna go with the flow
Just like a swimmer that’s following tides,
But your lies feed my enemies
And your words are a new disease,
Hello, hello, hello, hello, hello, hello,
Is there anybody listening?
You neck wine, it’s what you do cause the fools that you rule
Are lonely sheep without spines,
God! I wanna punch till you drop
Then sit back and watch you slowly decline,
Cause your lies feed my enemies
And your words are a new disease,
Hello, hello, hello, hello, hello, hello,
Is there anybody listening?
Is there anybody listening?
I dream of violence, o-oh Leviathan Jones,
Bring me a silence, o-oh Leviathan Jones,
I dream of recompense – ohh!
Taste what I’ve got, this faith I’ve got,
These breaks I’ve got, they’re hot, your not
And it’s your pot I’m pissing in!
It’s like 1999, except this time your speeches die amongst the wise
It’s no surprise cause you’re blind
To all the weekend warriors
Who want to take and break your lifeline,
Take and break your lifeline (x4)…..
You’re like an orange’s rind, you think you’re tasty but you’re just a waste of space
And up the ladder you climb,
But it wont be long till someone comes along to
Take and break your lifeline.
Take and break your lifeline (x4)…..
Read more Foilface song lyrics
By Duncan Ratters, on May 25th, 2010
 I watch her smiling face just like it’s me she’s searching for,
But in her vacant eyes there’s no surprises just rotating doors,
Inside my mind I call for silence but it’s all in vain,
I am a storm of stolen moments all I feel is rain.
It’s times like these that I need your honest words
You’ve heard I’m lost a little,
The way that you seem to get everything,
Knock me down with the truth but I dance,
This is a fine bromance!
In darker days than these you listened as I cursed the world,
Set nights on fire getting high away from guns and girls,
If life is really just a bunch of nearly men and kings
I think we’ve staked our right to fight until the beggars sing.
Oh really, really? This is clearly just my time to fall,
It’s not the first and it won’t be the last time that I call
On you to set me straight and talk until I see the light,
These darkened lanes won’t last forever, they’re just holy frights.
It’s times like these that I need your honest words
You’ve heard I’m lost a little,
The way that you seem to get everything,
Knock me down with the truth but I dance,
This is a fine bromance!
Want to see any other song lyrics from our free music 2 download? Just let us know.
By Duncan Ratters, on May 8th, 2010
Set me on fire, I’m on my way to Bordeax,
I’m saying, “O-oh, O-oh, O-oh, I’m made of polyester”,
I stress for hours just because I’m alive,
My French is shit, I’m singing, “Ce’st bon Jean-Claude Van-Damme le merde”.
There are no junkies in Uzbekistan,
My gland is not aroused by photo’s of sailors,
Put down your onion sandals,
I handle death threats like they’re titties on a Tuesday,
I bruise like peaches but you will never ever see me
Reaching for a bacon licker!
Holistic Peter,
Aggressive Sebastian,
Talking like the last bastions
Of a nuclear future vision.
Crafty spoonfuls of a creme brulee,
It’s not a Tuesday, it’s a Saturday,
Fuck off Dad I’m going to Bob Hattersley’s,
Coz he’s got a Ninetendo Wii.
What’s that you’re saying?
You smell of translation frenzies,
This isn’t class based, it’s not an anti-euro message,
It’s just a rural riot,
If I had piloted a plane in 9/11
I would of tolf the muslims heaven
Was filled with fat virgin lesbians,
Holistic Peter,
Aggressive Sebastian,
Talking like the last bastions
Of a nuclear future vision.
Crafty spoonfuls of a creme brulee,
It’s not a Tuesday, it’s a Saturday,
Fuck off Dad I’m going to Bob Hattersley’s,
Coz he’s got a Ninetendo Wii.
Put out my fire I’m heading back to Soho,
I’m crying, “Oh no, oh no, oh no, I look like Simon Weston”,
I rest on laurels like they’re benches in a park,
I spark the dark but it never ever turns into an early sunshine.
There are no junkies in Uzbekistan,
My gland is not aroused by photo’s of sailors,
Put down your onion sandals,
I handle death threats like they’re titties on a Tuesday,
I bruise like peaches but you will never ever see me
Reaching for a bacon licker!
By Bro. Jo Stern, on June 30th, 2009
 In the middle of the night when you’re zoned,
Just thinking, drinking,
Sinking into another man’s sofa,
On the brink of something happening,
You’re just reckoning that this can’t be the future
As your tutor is waiting to tell you something,
Anything that will alleviate the boredom,
No-one famous ever came from Milton Keynes,
All your dreams are just puddles left from the storms,
You’re just horny,
But then again maybe it’s this pill drink.
When the summer of your days are just a blaze
In a haze of Australians dying,
Lying on your back sweaty cracked,
Double-tracked like your life is running oh so parallel
To the surprising rising of a thousand backwoodsmen,
It’s kiss and tell, it’s wishing wells,
It’s the real hell of another man’s empty cellar,
No good stories ever came from Stoke-On-Trent,
You’re bent out of shape and hating people,
You’re evil, but then again,
At least you’ve got your pill drink.
No-one erotic ever came from East Kilbride,
You’re wide-eyed and unnecessary,
This is a very, very bad thing,
But at least you’ve got your pill drink.
When there’s someone in the background of every supermarket
Shouting words like, ‘semester’ and, ‘vacation’,
You know that they’re the kind of people
Who pay for empty cartons at the end of their shop
‘Cause they’ve eaten everything,
They treat it like a day out,
They treat it like an adventure,
They invite you around their house
To watch re-runs of Birds of a Feather,
They send you video messages to your phone
Of inbreds chain-sawing the heads off pigs,
They shove both thumbs up,
Smiling.
By Bro. Jo Stern, on April 24th, 2009
 Sweet Lord, am I really here,
Or is someone just pulling my heartstrings?
Cause they’ve snapped
And I’m back on the track
That keeps leading to cracks
In the pavement,
Your little words are breaking me.
The end, I have seen my friend
And it lends its face well to vengeance,
You spend all my patience quick
But the trick is to swear that you need me,
Greedy, bleed me dry, I sigh, you lead,
Oh your little words are breaking me.
Break in, break in, so I can break out, break out (x4)
(Wig-Out)
Break in, break in, so I can break out, break out (x4)
So here it comes, here it comes, here it comes, here it comes,
Here comes reality,
I’m off the track, I’m on my back, sharp as a tack, I take it back,
Here comes monotony,
Where you gonna go when you feel the rain?
Whose gonna listen when you start to complain?
What you gonna do when they drive you insane?
Why are you poking your life down the drain?
Talk back!!!
Stay tuned for more lyrics from the recent music vaults of Manchester’s newest slacker rock afficionados, Foilface….
By Bro. Jo Stern, on April 18th, 2009
 I love stupid world records – and it doesn’t get much more stupid than the record for the amount of snails you can put on your face (25 – go on count ‘em).
Far be it for me to mock (especially not on this occassion) – I’m far too accepting of such things. I’ve also got no world records (although I may possibly have a bit of athletes foot on the big toe of my right foot and a half eaten sandwiche in the kitchen).
The great news concerning the world recording breaking snails on a face photo on your right is that the young nine year old in question (Tiana Wilson) is a massive fan of Foilface and once listened to ‘Pussyfoot’ in it’s entirety (that’s 2 mins and 31 seconds) on Last FM whilst balancing a non-record breaking 17 snails on her face. She loves us and so do the snails.
Speaking to some reporter at some point she reckoned that snails really liked ramshackled slacker rock music played by men that smell of beer and crisps. It supposedly makes them stickier (no giggling all you SITC fans!).
So, ‘nine year old record breakers’ and ‘snails’ love Foilface. If that’s not the headline on a soon to be released Foilface Press Release, then I’m a cock.
By Bro. Jo Stern, on April 16th, 2009
 I left my whistle by the canapés,
This age I’ve found myself in
Is made out of concrete boulevards,
I find my way out punching bodyguards,
Did I tell you about the time?
Did I tell you about the time?
Did I tell you about the time I had worms?
This is a really bad second date,
I’ve poured my guts out and I’m crying hard,
If there were rules I reckon they’d all be corpses in a lonely pit,
Counting buttons and they’re cluttered by confusing shit.
I break myself into pieces
And I hand myself out to lonely lepers,
Claire is a very good, a very good swimmer,
She’s hyperactive and she’s insecure,
If you tell here she’s the only one
She probably bake some cakes
And suck you till you’re dry.
She’s an only child and her parents are separated
I’ll bet she’ll be elated if you break her down –
She is a cake with squirty cream.
Keep your eyes on these pages for more Foilface lyrics and recent music news and nonsense…
By Bro. Jo Stern, on April 14th, 2009
 Do the outburst…
Take it on the chin…
Smoking kills…
Bring out the sinners…
They are nothing but lizards,
They bring you down to their tables at breakfast time
And make you sit through their prayers,
Unaware that your clearest intentions
Involve detentions with school girls and white wine,
All the time your mind is thinking,
“I want to do things in the pantry,
I want to do things in the pantry with you”.
Why you living in the 1950’s?
Put down Lolita, pick up your bible
And start speaking the words your mother taught you.
You ought to do that – but then again you could just
Bust your face against the pantry walls!
Bust your face against the pantry walls!
Bust your face against the pantry walls!
This is the future we are nothing but molluscs,
We are nothing but war wounds even now,
Do the outburst…
Take it on the chin…
Smoking kills…
We’ll post more lyrics to recent music by Foilface here soon.
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