Oh god its another night

And your head is feeling

Like a lump of lead

You should never have drunk

Those party-fours

You should of been home being good instead



Ever been in a deja vue 

and the end is the same again 

You ran out of your silver thins 

And you're trying to be so high class 

Though you need a bath and your hair's looking like string 

And though you're nearly broke you end up paying for all the drinks 

And you tell them 'Oh its nothing 

There's a million where those come from' 

And then you whisper to your longest-suffering friend 

'Please lend me a few quid'



Oh god it's another day

And your stomach's feeling

Like a blown-up balloon

You should never have eaten that greasy food

The doctor told you that chile was bad for your blood



And you're standing at the chemist in Boots 

Coughing up your guts like you're at deaths door 

All this for a packet of Do-Do's 

And the assistant gives you a wink and you turn bright red 

It's at time like this that you wish you were dead 

And you take the whole packet and you feel like you've drunk 

A bottle of bleach 

And you tell yourself 'Never, never again 

Well, not until next week anyway' 

And you were never one for holding drink 

And you stagger off to the toilet 

And you throw up like it was Christmas 

And you miss the bowl and you hit your shoes 

And there's no paper towels 

Now what else can go wrong for you 

It's a choice between a cab fare home 

And a packet of cigarettes 

So you choose and the money sticks 

In the machine and the manager says 

'Tough shit - drink up and leave'



Oh god it's another disease

And you just got rid of the last

You were beginning to feel OK

And the friends you gave it to

Were speaking to you again.



And you find yourself having sex 

In the back of a car 

And the girl underneath 

Doesn't care who you are 

And you're nearly there 

And she still doesn't care 

And her chewing gum 

Is getting stuck in your hair 

And there's something wrong 

Something that you forgot 

Oh Shit, you've forgotten the rubber 

And you don't want a kid 

Well, deny it was you 

If your dad finds out 

Then he'll make you stay in 

And do your homework 

And cut your hair 

And wear your school uniform 

Out in the street 

Oh what a fate worse than death 

Oh well he can't hit you 

You can hit him back 

And play your records so loud 

All the ones that he especially hates 

Deep Purple in Rock, Led Zeppelin II 

Well even you hate those 

Well on second thoughts 

I think I'll leave home 

And go and live in America 

Because they earn more money there 

And they can get away with murder - Yeah!



Oh this is a Mugs game

I can't wait until I'm twenty one

And I can tell them all to sod off.