Tom: C major
Intro 1
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Verse 1
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Why
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they got tellies in pubs?
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Keep us munched on second- hand grub
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Second- hand tales, I'm fired up
Dm
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Two pints for a fiver, drunk
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Watch me: am I a tor
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toise or a cuddly bear?
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When life isn't anything 'til
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you start drinkin' there
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No truce, just a selection
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of memories in bars you knew
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I'm glad I was born when I was
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I get to see the Right once
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again look like nobs
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Like what? It's not hard is it,
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nine for a quid in Bejams, the lot
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You fat bastard
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You English climes
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You fat bastards
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You fat bastards
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You fat bastards
Verse 2
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Carlton touts
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Dm
The angel of the midlands
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has flown away
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You can't blame her
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When the future is a flag pissed on
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And a king- sized bag of quavers
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Verse 3
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The angel of the midlands has flown away
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Probably south
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You can't blame her
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When the future is a flag pissed on
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And a king- sized bag of quavers
Verse 4
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side
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Tryin' to put a memory to the face
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that has just said "hi"
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Clouds are low, like the general mood
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Tempers cookin' up from the inside
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We are the microwave food
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The Labour Party is a three- quid
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tube of vending machine smarties
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At the airport, where check
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- in could be check- out
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What the fuck is happening'?
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Bring back the neolibs, I'm sorry
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Didn't fuckin' mean to
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pray for anarchy
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They're all gaggin' for a bit o' fame
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So course they're fuckin' off
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You don't become a toff by
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going against the toff
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Where's the anti- toff?
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Have you recognized the needle
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in your own arm, cunt?
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I have, but so what?
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You can't beam me up,
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I'm not Captain Spock
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You can't sell me stuff on
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the rotten rot
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I've got a store- card, bastard
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On this month Top Shop
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Verse 5
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Carlton touts
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The angel of the midlands has flown away
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Probably south
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You can't blame her
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When the future is a flag pissed on
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And a king- sized bag of quavers
Dm
Verse 6
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Carlton touts
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The angel of the midlands has flown away
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Probably south
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You can't blame her
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When the future is a flag pissed on
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Dm
And a king- sized bag of quavers
Verse 7
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Carlton touts
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Carlton touts
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Dm
Carlton touts
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Carlton touts
Outro 1
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