Juveniles, hide your porno mags

The girl's got problems at her yard

So she's packin' up her bags full of rags

Her man got done from Po Na Na

While their marge is still in the kitchen

Smokes a twenty deck of fags

Body bags come back on planes from war-torn 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 her the throat, she won't understand

Twos on a cigarette and talk blah blah

Bloody hell, di-oh-blah-dah, glug down liquor

Life goes on for all the day trippers

Starts off small, but it's gonna get bigger

By the end of this letter, it may all be better

Well, she always askin' with the who, where and how

The girls say ooh la la

Well, if I had another chance, do it differently now

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

From Trafalgar Square where the crack pipe reekin'

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

You fell in love when you first started chattin'

But got so bored 'cause she never stopped speakin'

Consider this son one of bad behavior

He's keepin' all the freebies, deliverin' the papers

You hate us

Shake down fakers

Oh, you'll never get nowhere

'Cause I'm the pacemaker

Keep up, run it, run it

Run, keep up

Ahh, pretty please me

Ah, she's easy on the eye

Some say that today only the good young die

Yippee oh kai yay, it's been right good day

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

How did you get to where you going to

Before you came slowly moseying through this bar?

You started your race

Johnny Cockeroo wants his money

Better give up the man, he's a Fruit & Nut bar

I'm serious, he's a really nutter

Gotta see the GP, coughin' up lungs

And the doc said, "Stop or you're gonna die young"

I haven't even started to do what I done

You young don't listen, you just carry on

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, life fast, die young

Blister skin stumbling, road rocky

And trespassers on the private property

Remember back then it was the rant and the banter

Young sons watched their young pas get cancer

And vagabond Sandi cryin' out for a nista

Missed her so much that he went drank the brewery

Sing along, Sam, it's a song 'bout you

And 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!"

Well, it's all a bit of fun till someone gets done

But the fellas say, "Go on, my son, my son!"

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

But 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!