| It seems like certain people need to slow down
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| Sit and zone out, but they don’t know how
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| They’re burning loads of pounds
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| But I’m in no doubt
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| Burn the candle both ends
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| It’ll get blown out
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| Can you really see Synners
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| Getting down to some big-cheese business?
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| Every month, holding more than three figures
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| I’ve seen that scene
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| And that scene seems vicious
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| Keen-witted mean-spirits
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| Fiending for riches, me
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| I couldn’t deal with it
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| I’ll sooner be seen swimming
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| In deep rivers wearing concrete slippers
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| It’s wrong that I should feel privileged when
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| Given a fleeting glimpse of free living once my weeks finished
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| Maybe I’m one of those weak quitters
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| But I can’t work all day
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| And only rest for fifteen minutes
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| Eating TV dinners
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| Steady trying to keep diligent
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| Thinking of my annual beach visit
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| So ask me what I’m doing instead, just
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| Scooping a bit of bread and butter
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| While pursuing interests
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| And you might think I’m stupid
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| As a foolish inbred
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| Used to sittin' on a stoop
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| With a group of pissheads
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| But it’s rare that my mood is intense |
| 'Cuz I created a relaxing ambiance
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| Without using incense
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| So accuse me while using a pertruding index
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| 'Cuz it’s true that I’m a loser
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| With his future in shreds
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| But I produce a sick text
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| When I use a Bic pen
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| Something in me ticks
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| Like a superhuman sixth sense
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| Observing life through a thick lens
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| Watching steadily
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| Using time to rest
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| Thus preserving my longevity
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| It’s Tuesday night, man
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| I’m craving spliff and hot food
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| But not more than pound a drink
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| And shit pop tunes
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| A lot lost to the work-drink work-drink
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| Puzzled punters glugging jugs
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| To make the words fit (What?)
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| A something always
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| Tugging at the purse-strings
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| And now they’re sloppy 'round the edges
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| Like a first kiss
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| I’m not the worst; |
| it’s
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| Just a casual pastime
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| Nothing serious
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| Just here to drink the bar dry
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| Chuckle at our troubles as they shrink into the dark night
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| Follow my reflection as it’s sinking
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| With my last pint
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| We’re on the brink of being
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| Victims of the far right
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| But can’t resist because we’re
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| Twisted by this fast life
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| I drifted in from last night |
| Thinkin' how it’s
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| A little bit odd that we see time as a commodity
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| When if a man was lost at sea
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| Without a clock to read
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| Imprisoned by his prophesy
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| Allowing his return upon
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| Accomplishment of odyssey
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| He could quite possibly
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| Arrive to find the hand had only moved from one to three
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| Think about it logically
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| Or don’t if you’re too busy
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| But choose quickly
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| 'Cuz pretty soon they’ll be selling special
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| Seconds of your life online for 2.50
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| Who’s with me?!
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| Nah, I thought not
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| 'Cuz then you’d have to slow down
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| And if I’m really honest with you
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| Then I couldn’t go now
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| Just leave with no sound
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| Like this life was worth nothing;
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| All possessions thrown down
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| Possessions thrown down
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| Possessions thrown down
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| Possessions thrown down
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| Possessions thrown down, down, down |