No Christmas for John Quays

Come on get a bit of fucking guts into it

What what

Well the powders reach you

And the powders teach you

But when you find they can't reach you

There is no Christmas for junky

He thinks he is

More interesting

Than the world

Ah but five fags

Puts him in a whirl

I'll have a packet of three-five fives

You fucking [full of money] or something for Christ's sake?

I'll have a packet of three-five fives

I'll have 20 of those over there

I'll have 20 No.6 for a headache

And I've had enough right there, stop

(Why is this)

Ah Ah Ah Ah Ah

He spits in the sky

It falls in his eye

And then he gets to sitting

Talking to his kitten

Talking about Frankie Lymon

Tell me why is it so?

Tell me why is it so?

Why did the sky break today?

Why did this happen today?

He gets out of his face with the Idle Race

He gets out of the room with this tune

Although the skins are thin

He knows its up to him

To go out or stay in

I'll stay in

I'll stay in

Have a break

You

Me

X-Mas

X-Mas

Well the powders reach you

And the powders teach you

But when you find they can't reach you

There is no Christmas for junky

There is no girls

Just the traffic passing by

Bye bye bye bye bye bye bye bye

Open the room, there's a cloud of smoke

Will you fucking get it together instead of showing off?

Give me one

Give me B

Give me three

Give me D

No X-mas for John Quays