On Fridays we go dancing
To a tacky bar where we get filmed
I break both my legs for now
I walk around in plaster just for some attention
But what the f** would you know?
Beyond the truth that they don't show
I've seen your eyes and they sure know
Their way to the end of your nose
And here we go....
I bang my head against a wall so
I gain a pretty bruise
Then I can complain to you
I read it in a liberal publication
Where the d**h of our friends never gets a mention
So what the f** would you know?
Beyond the truth that they don't show
I've seen your eyes and they sure know
Their way to the end of your nose
And here we go....again...
It doesn't matter at all
One paragraph in the Liverpool Echo
You'll read it nowhere else at all
So what the f** do you know?