There's a punch up outside of yates'
And there are so many beautiful faces
You and me are the troubled teens
Will go hang out by the pinball machines
I hope yr hotspots all burn down
And we dont look back when we're leaving town
We just throw the salt over the shoulder
Don't be sad the aquaintance is over
I thought i'd like it but i didnt like it
You bet on lame horses you get disappointed
Lets cut our loses, cut our throats
Divide up the bill and get our coats