STRAIGHT TO VIDEO

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... and when we woke up from Terror Throat everything had changed forever. All of a sudden Wolfpack of One was an uber-confessional (not very professional) sensitive singer songwriter. OUT went experimental slop-hop noodling and half-arsed, half-cut songs about foxes and pigbots and IN came trying to tell THE TRUTH and trying to stay IN TUNE. Weird. I blame that girl from New French Girlfriend seven-or-so songs back (who, incidentally, was actually Danish - see, the old Wolfpack even lied about that) for being so unutterably evil, that even a jolly old sod like me felt the need to SHARE. HIS. PAIN. It's pretty much been moaning-quite-loudly-about- girls, ever since round here. Cheers!

I hope I find your heart, you know you've got a place in mine. I don't know where to start, and you don't want to know what's going on inside my mind.

I'm only nervous because you're worth it, and I'm worthless half the time. I'm only jealous 'cause you notice, and I've seen all the films we've hired.

Life's no movie, but if it could be, it would go Straight to Video.

Hopeless heartache always hurts and it's rare you'll find me lost for words. She said, "why must you say everything like it was a joke, with all the punchlines stolen from some age old TV show?" I just pulled a face, that made me look like Chevy Chase.

Life's no movie, but if it could be, it would go Straight to Video.