[Verse 1]
You c*nt make it up
Select deep roads channeled, iced gems but code
What do you buy a ticket for you twat?
You tried to make a point out of what? You sack
I saw ya f**ing sh** singer
Trying to look like he was studying the bands dinner
Wannabes never change, it's the wannabe show
And you always wanna be the same, posy sh**
And leather jacket, motorbikes from the 50's
You live in Carlton you twat
You're not Snake f**ing Plissken
Circus band, ran by circus man
Ran by, no understanding of what it means to write these tunes
On the highway of f**ing artistry
You're sh**, ya look like Rocket from the Crypt
Meets an old codger with one leg, sat in his prefab
Hating men, hating the state that sent the poor c*nt to war mate
You're him, you're f**ing bleak little worm
Tryna s** the juice out of a tuna tins
[Chorus]
You c*nt make it up
More green chops, curdle the gravy
Get ya plate in order
No locker, no Davy
[Verse 2]
A pint and grunt, we won't win with a pint and a grunt
You just gotta look at the horse faced c*nt
Am I bring unintelligent? I don't care
Its a war you ba*tards, slash and despair
Flush 'em out there, ground the family
The servants scream in delight
Tyre, tyre, ya wheels on fire
I'm gonna put a wrestling mask on and stand in front of a mixer
And start hitting it with a ding dong
Resort to gimmick, write for the...
And live on me own in a knackered cottage in Limerick
Kate Bush did it, she's great
Music for people with a bit of extra money, mate
I'm fighting off comedy mods, Les Dawson sods
[Chorus]
You c*nt make it up
More green chops, curdle the gravy
Get ya plate in order
No locker, no Davy
You c*nt make it up
You c*nt make it up
More green chops, curdle the gravy
Get ya plate in order
No locker, no Davy
[Outro]
You c*nt make it up
You c*nt make it up
You c*nt make it up