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Another night on the town in old shirt and crap shoes, I catch the stench of sick from the pubs,
Where the drunks sing of old days, of sad days and glory days, and race days organized by the clubs,
And nobody else gives a fuck,
Squirming masses of girls dressed up to the nines, "look at me", "I’m wearing my uniform",
My own head raised to the sky, old jeans, crap trainers,
They dart glossy-haired looks at me, I lower my head and snarl back, making mental bets with myself,
over who will fuck over who tonight,
The chorus of old crows, hacking coughs, reach crescendo, as I open the door to the pub, it’s insane
The toothless old hags smile at dead eyed drunk bastards, and I roll my eyes once again,
Is this love, is this love?
Because nobody else really gives a fuck,
Nothing has changed since nineteen-canteen, and if anything changes, it won’t be me,
I sit drink-gripped and ruddy on my seat, nobody recognizes my face any more,
I don’t give a fuck,
So the drunks are all dying and the fat girls are crying,
Nobody wants to go home on their own,
The teenagers swagger behind,
Surly friends to the chip-shop,
Knowing one day they’ll end up just the same,
When the jukebox starts up, god only knows, will it end up lamenting the past,
Do we know?
Do we even give a fuck anymore?
At the end of the night we’ll go home and cry, beat up our husbands and wives and our hearts,
Now the drunks, they’re all crying,
The fat girls are dying of disease,
Caught from the men they thought they could snare,
Everyone rots without love in their hearts,
They sink lower,
Into despair,
And I just want to tell them, that it doesn’t matter,
But I find myself holding them down in a corner, talking shit, holding hands, giving hugs,
Because maybe we’d be happier in this repressed society, if we shared a little compassion for strangers,
Because if nothing is done,
It’ll kill everyone,
Nobody will go out anymore |
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