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Lyrics
Oh god its another night And your head is feeling Like a lump of lead You should never have drunk Those party-fours You should of been home being good instead Ever been in a deja vue and the end is the same again You ran out of your silver thins And you're trying to be so high class Though you need a bath and your hair's looking like string And though you're nearly broke you end up paying for all the drinks And you tell them 'Oh its nothing There's a million where those come from' And then you whisper to your longest-suffering friend 'Please lend me a few quid' Oh god it's another day And your stomach's feeling Like a blown-up balloon You should never have eaten that greasy food The doctor told you that chile was bad for your blood And you're standing at the chemist in Boots Coughing up your guts like you're at deaths door All this for a packet of Do-Do's And the assistant gives you a wink and you turn bright red It's at time like this that you wish you were dead And you take the whole packet and you feel like you've drunk A bottle of bleach And you tell yourself 'Never, never again Well, not until next week anyway' And you were never one for holding drink And you stagger off to the toilet And you throw up like it was Christmas And you miss the bowl and you hit your shoes And there's no paper towels Now what else can go wrong for you It's a choice between a cab fare home And a packet of cigarettes So you choose and the money sticks In the machine and the manager says 'Tough shit drink up and leave' Oh god it's another disease And you just got rid of the last You were beginning to feel OK And the friends you gave it to Were speaking to you again. And you find yourself having sex In the back of a car And the girl underneath Doesn't care who you are And you're nearly there And she still doesn't care And her chewing gum Is getting stuck in your hair And there's something wrong Something that you forgot Oh Shit, you've forgotten the rubber And you don't want a kid Well, deny it was you If your dad finds out Then he'll make you stay in And do your homework And cut your hair And wear your school uniform Out in the street Oh what a fate worse than death Oh well he can't hit you You can hit him back And play your records so loud All the ones that he especially hates Deep Purple in Rock, Led Zeppelin II Well even you hate those Well on second thoughts I think I'll leave home And go and live in America Because they earn more money there And they can get away with murder Yeah! Oh this is a Mugs game I can't wait until I'm twenty one And I can tell them all to sod off.
More songs from Soft Cell
Song Info
Release Year
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Genres
Electric
Punk
Synth-pop
Moods
-
Vocals
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