| She could never ever ever ever ever ever ever get it into her thick head
|
| So when pretending ends shell have scattered her friends
|
| And she’ll find she’ll wake up dead
|
| There’s no card above receivers
|
| Still it’s all so remote
|
| Behind the bench at the rec
|
| Where she lost fifty notes
|
| (she says) «I used to have a future
|
| But now I don’t know
|
| Just dependence and repentance and a ready-brek glow»
|
| Just put your money in
|
| Bruised and battered shins
|
| You fucking love it
|
| You fucking love it
|
| Back on your feet again
|
| Out on the beat again
|
| You fucking love it
|
| Yeah yeah yeah
|
| Drunk as a skunk
|
| Lean as a dean
|
| Always the same
|
| Since she was thirteen
|
| You want it
|
| You lame duck
|
| You want it
|
| Youre out of luck
|
| You’ve always been a seedy fuck
|
| So whats it gonna be?
|
| Just put your money in
|
| Bruised and battered shins
|
| You fucking love it
|
| You fucking love it
|
| Back on your feet again
|
| Out on the beat again
|
| You fucking love it
|
| Yeah yeah yeah
|
| When you boil it down
|
| We descend from clowns to dogs
|
| Just put your money in
|
| Bruised and battered shins
|
| You fucking love it
|
| You fucking love it
|
| Back on your feet again
|
| Out on the beat again
|
| You fucking love it
|
| Yeah yeah yeah
|
| When you boil it down
|
| We descend from clowns to dogs |