I don't want to go back anymore.

I don't wanna go to work in the rain.

No more toast grilled on the heater.

No more of that A&R girl.

And having to meet her.

My person is in race everywhere. [embraced?]

You Pep!

And I stick my parker pen under my ear

Beneath my own carefully scruffed hair.

What I wear

Have to check out of a boutique lair

Hang on

Hang on, [live in St. Anne's with me.]

Into the room of the bass player.

Why would you go up stairs?

You Pep!

Don't think he's going to get in slippy

North of Hamptonshire.

I believe there's a new drug out.

[It's called speed I] wrote a song about it

Conceptually a la Bowie.

But it's been lost in the vaults of the record company

By our manager

So instead our new 45 is 'Girlies'

[His eyes are brown.]

Yours, brattingly.

Everyone says "please"

Anyway it's a race in life

Wait to say it in Lancashire

You Pep!

You had the best summer

And now it's wearing off.

No more excuses

For your traitorism.