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JAMIE T >> Merchandise Links
JAMIE T
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
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