| From the streets of Aberdeen to the Brighton scene
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| There’s something going wrong
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| From the woolacomb shore to the tots dance floor
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| They all shout «what's going on?»
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| You promised us a country fit for a queen
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| But the queen doesn’t have to pay
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| You promised us a future bright and clean
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| For a vote on electionday
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| Is there no-one left to shout?
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| There’s some people round here need sorting out
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| 'Coz for you there’s just no hope
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| Get a rope, get a rope
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| Sitting warm and snug on your council seat
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| In comfy shoes and tweed
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| With your rules and regs wrapped nice and neat
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| Deciding what my kids can’t read
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| We’re sick and tired of your liberal views
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| What’s politically correct?
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| Come judgement day, I’ll be trying the noose
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| And slipping it around your neck
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| Can’t you hear me shout?
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| There are a lot of people like me about
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| But for you there’s just no hope
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| Get a rope, get a rope
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| We want to make life one big joyride
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| But the roadblocks get in the way
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| We want to fly off the Spanish seaside
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| But the plane’s always delayed
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| We want to sing songs on radio 1
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| But the BBC says «no!»
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| We want to do deals on a mobile phone
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| And have something left to show
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| Is there no-one left to say?
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| There’s some people round here need blowing away
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| 'Coz for you there’s just no hope
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| Get a rope, get a rope
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| Get a rope, get a rope
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| Get a rope, get a rope |