Well, the clouds in the sky And your winter clothes are sadly a condition of life In this land, where the sun is as shy As long forgotten manners of old
Look, here comes another man With another sorry story to tell And you can bet he'll tell me all about The time he fell from Heaven to Hell Well, I don
I'm gonna pack up my troubles in my old kit-bag I'm gonna run a mile from here The ASBO generation make this a terror nation Full of loathing and fear
This story's a sad one, the sort that you hear all the time But this time I'll bore you with details and open your mind It's the tale of a young girl
Well, he's watching all the wealthy folk on his way to work Saturday's so far away, there's so much shit to shirk He's gotta keep his chin up, he's gotta
So this is Great Britain And welcome aboard A sinking ship that's full of shit And someone nicked the oars With failing false economy And anti-punk autonomy
Out on the tarmac There stands Scouse Jack Megaphone and anorack Shouting out A?a?¬E?Listen Matt Choose Christianity, donA?a?¬a??t choose humanityA
I was standing on the dancefloor And a pretty thing caught my eye She was looking at me, smiling at me And now she's dancing with me So I must be pretty
Hello, I found a stitch to wear and came out tonight Well, everybody looks at me like come kind of tramp 'Cause I, I wear these holy jeans Well, heaven
What's the difference between you and me You got no mercy, you got no sympathy Your soul is trapped and mine is free That's the difference between you
Well it seems like everyday I'm counting down to Friday night, There's Sunday, Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, never feel right, I do believe that
Wooohoooo woooooo They say money talks But it never answers me, no Here?s my calls Never a penny spared to Buy all my thoughts All the reaching reasons
Another night out, another girl on the scene Tart with a heart, you know the kind I mean Tell me why it is they all study art Underage and overdressed
I can't stomach this variety My plane is underneath my feet And I'm tired of your commercial needs And I can't follow ideology I'm proud of my attendancy
When I was one, my papa dropped me on my head And some damage was done Around the bend and out of my tree Not how I was meant to be I don't know where
I can get a record player, and a generator Generate the music that makes you feel better I don't live in poverty, I got a little bit of money And I've
Traducción: O Holloways. Ups foda.
Traducción: O Holloways. Dois pés esquerdos.
