Pacemaker

Juveniles hide your porno mags The girl's got problems at her yard so she's packing up her bags full of rags her man got done from Po Na Na While the Madre 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 Baby T, the juice, and the dog just barks Remember man, 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 With a lump in your throat she won't understand Two's on a cigarette and talk, blah blah Bloody hell, di-ob-li-da, glug down liquor 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 bad behaviour He's keeping all the freebies delivering the papers Ya haters shake down fakers Ah, you'll never get nowhere cause I'm the pacemaker Pretty please me, ah she's easy on the eye Some say that today only the good young die Yippee-yo-ki-yay, 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 up the man, he's a fruit and nut bar (I'm serious, he's a real nutter) Gotta see the GP, coughing up lungs And the doc said "stop boy, you're gonna die young" Well I haven't even started to do what I 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 it's just skivvy sunken Hum drum drum drum, love fast, die young Blister skin stumbling, road rocky And trespassers on the private property Remember back then it was the rant and the banter Young songs watch their young pa's get cancer 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 it, well he's a right big cunt but I'll knock him one Fuck that, run, run!