| Bored of working through the racing days
|
| Don’t fall through the concrete holes
|
| Or anything else because that’s just another fact
|
| That they can’t help you with
|
| The cunt stunk of skunk as he grabbed me by the neck
|
| Trackies and North Face, a future court case
|
| Wrong place wrong time, I’m a victim of a crime
|
| My life and my belongings have done been put on the line
|
| If he gets caught he probably won’t even get a fine
|
| My shit already sold never get back what’s mine
|
| The sad thing is, well, this ain’t the first time
|
| And when I think of it, it sends stabbings down my spine
|
| Bored of working through the racing days
|
| Don’t fall through the concrete holes
|
| Or anything else because that’s just another fact
|
| That they can’t help you with
|
| There’s nothing new under the sun
|
| And modern life has lost its fun
|
| And anywhere I go, they’ll take your money
|
| I can’t take it anymore
|
| Turn around, walk away
|
| You might live another day
|
| Turn around, walk away
|
| You might live another day
|
| Turn around, walk away
|
| You might live another day
|
| Turn around, walk away
|
| You might live another day
|
| Roses round the railings, picture what I’m saying
|
| Spending all your savings just to keep up with your cravings
|
| Wannabe road men cracked tarmac needs a mend
|
| Well I start to wonder where all the money gets spent
|
| On rent, we keep looking up for tomorrow
|
| We beg, we steal, we borrow, next year no more sorrow
|
| And the sad thing is, well, this ain’t the last time
|
| And when I think of it, it sends stabbings down my spine
|
| Bored of working through the racing days
|
| Don’t fall through the concrete holes
|
| Or anything else because that’s just another fact
|
| That they can’t help you with
|
| There’s nothing new under the sun
|
| And modern life has lost its fun
|
| And anywhere I go, they’ll take your money
|
| I can’t take it anymore |