Juveniles, hide your porno mags 

The girl's got problems at her yard so she's packing up her bags full of rags 

Her man got down from Po Na Na 

While the Madre still in the kitchen smokes a 20-deck fags 

Body bags come back on planes from wartorn Iraq 

It's the stark naked truth, a dark aftermath 

Baby T, the juice and the dog just barks 

Remember man the bully always had the last laugh 



It was a blast last night down the old 12 Bar 

White socks, black shoes with the ballads in the car 

With a lump in the throat she won't understand 

Twos on a cigarette it's all blah blah 

Bloody obli obla dah glug down liquor 

Life goes on for all the daytrippers 

Starts off small but it's gonna get bigger 

By the end of this letter it may all be better 



Well she's always asking with the who, where and how 

The girls say ooh la la 

Well if I had another chance I'd do it differently now 

And the girls say ooh la la la la la la la 

From Trafalger Square where the crackpipe reeking 

To in your dark damp flat, the ceiling's leaking 

You fell in love when you first started chatting 

But got so bored cause she never stopped speaking 

Consider this son on the bad behaviour 

He's keeping all the freebies, delivering the papers 

You hate us, shake down fakers 

Oh, you'll never get nowhere 

Cause I'm the pacemaker 



(Keepup, runny runny run run) 



Pretty please me, oh, she's easy on the eye 

Some say that today only the good young die 

Ipee-oh-kai-yay, it's been right good day 

I wanna ask questions but I don't mean to pry 

How did you get to where you going to before you came slowly moseying through this bar? 

You started your race, Jonny Cockeral wants his money 

Give up the man he's a fruit and nut bar 



(I'm serious, he's a real nutter) 



Oh, I gotta see the GP, coughing up lungs 

Doc says stop or you're going die young 

I haven't even started to do what I done 

You young don't listen, you just carry on 

Well, we heard it before when your song got sung 

Get a grip son 

Why? 

Cause you're always drunken 

We're not captains just skivvy sunken 

Humdrum drum, drum, live fast die young 



Mr Skin stumbling, the road rocky 

Trespassers on the private property 

Remember back then it was the ranter banter 

Young sons watched their young Pas get cancer 

Vagabond Sandy crying out for he missed her 

Missed her so much that he went drank the brewery 

So sing-a-long Sam this is a song about you 

We all went out and we got pissed-ola 



I don't wanna fight he's a right big cunt 

But the fellas say go on my son, my son 

It's all a bit of fun 'til someone gets done 

But the fellas say go on my son, my son 

Well, I'm more likely to pick up and run 

But the fellas say go on my son, my son 

Ah fuck it, well, he's a right big cunt 

But I'll knock him one, fuck that 

Run, run