| To think that the last of the small town playboys was a little bit like me
|
| Hold on
|
| Well what could that mean?
|
| Well Im still looking around for leads
|
| Cos when it comes to playboys
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| Small towns are bursting at the seams
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| England’s getting fat
|
| But this suit is wearing thin
|
| So deal me another hand
|
| Before the games begin
|
| Well what do you do if the world owes you something?
|
| What else is there to do
|
| When the world owes you something new?
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| I want you just to forget myself
|
| I need you just to forget myself
|
| I want you just to forget myself
|
| And so the last of the small town playboys
|
| Is a little bit like me
|
| Hold on
|
| Now what could that mean?
|
| No hope of hope and glory
|
| Spilling down the Camden Road
|
| Im in it for the story
|
| That you spit at me in code
|
| Well, my hearts in a headlock and my soul goes on unsung
|
| Unsung for the lonely
|
| Well what do you do when your world owes you something?
|
| Oh what is there to do
|
| When the world owes you something new?
|
| I want you just to forget myself
|
| I need you just to forget myself
|
| I’ve got you just to forget myself
|
| I need you
|
| I want you
|
| Ive got you just to forget myself
|
| I need you
|
| I want you
|
| I’ve got you just to forget myself |