Jamie T Pacemaker song lyrics

Juveniles hide your porno mags the girls got problems at her yard

So she's packing up her bags full of rags her man got done from Pa Na Na

While the Madras still in the kitchen smokes a twenty deck of fags

Body bags come back off planes from war torn Iraq

It's the stark naked truth a dark aftermath

With baby T, the juice, and the dog just barks

Remember how 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

And a lump in your throat she won't understand

Two's on a cigarette and a talk blah blah

Bloody hell die o blah da glug down liquor

While 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's always asking with the who, where and how

The girls say ooh la la

Well if I had another chance I'd do it differently now

And the girls say ooh la la la la la la

From Trafalgar Square where the crack pipe reeking

To in your dark damp flat the ceiling's leaking

You fell in love when you first started chatting

But got so bored 'cause she never stopped speaking

Consider this son one of the bad behaviour

He's keeping all the freebies delivering the papers

Ya haters shake down fakers

Ah you'll never get nowhere 'cause we're the Pacemakers

Pretty please me ah she's easy on the eye

Some say that today only the good young die

Yippy yo kay ay it's been a right good day

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

How did you get to where you're going to before you came

Slowly moseying through this bar you started your race

Johnny cock-a-roo wants his money

Better give to the man he's a fruit and nut bar

Gotta see the GP coughing up lungs

And the doc said stop or you're gonna die young

Well I haven't even started to do what I'd done

You young don't listen you just carry on

Well we heard it all before when you song got sung

Get a grip son why 'cause you always drunken

We're not captain's just skivvy sunken

Hum drum drum live fast die young

Blister skin stumbling the road rocky and trespassers on the private property

Remember back then it was the rant the banter

While young songs watch their young pars get cancer

While vagabond sandy crying out for a nista

Missed her so much that he went drank the brewery

Well sing-a-long Sam this is a song about you

We all went out and we got pistola

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 til someone gets done

But the fellas say go on my son my son

I'm more likely to pick up and run

But the fellas say go on my son my son

Ah fuck, well he's a right big cunt

I'll knock him one fuck that run run.