 Gran lyrics ( Hitchcock robyn )   
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 Rate Gran
Artist : Hitchcock robyn
Song : Gran
Alone and pointless by her mouldering self,
she stares at the tin of sardines on the shelf.
By a parafin lamp in a dingy brown room,
Gran sits and broods in the thickening gloom.
It's a gloom that congeals it's so greasy and
thick,
You could cut into strips and roast on a stick.
And hand round to friends, but there's nobody
there,
just Gran, on her own, in a miserable chair.
So don't point it at me, point it at Gran.
She needs it more than I do, and more than
Princes Anne.
When Princess Anne's 82 and living in a room room
flat in Hackney,
maybe she could do ... with a bit as well.
Don't point it me, don't point at it yourself.
Just point it at Gran and the sardines on the
shelf.
Don't point it at me, I've had more than enough.
Just point it at Gran, she could do with plenty
of stuff.
Don't point it at me, point it Gran.
Well, it could be a firehose, or it could be a
flan.
Now, some people are happy and some people are
bored,
and some people are left and completely ignored.
So why should your life end on a dismal note?
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