| Five nights, no sleep, my mind’s battered
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| Stock markets free fall, dreams shattered
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| Lost cause, pulled up, a sure winner
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| Made a few bob, in a new job as a serial killer
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| You wanna talk to me, whiteboy, man
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| You wanna talk to me, whiteboy, boy, man
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| You wanna talk to me, whiteboy, man
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| Every night microwaved, TV dinners
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| Mobile phones make her brain shimmer
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| Don’t say the c word she got the all clear
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| That jokes bad taste and so dog eared
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| My mum says I look like Yul Brynner
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| Too old for Hamlet, too young for Lear
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| Got a shaved head, lost weight, fakir
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| Got a pierced lip 'cause it’s still hip to appear queer
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| You wanna talk to me, whiteboy, man
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| You wanna talk to me, whiteboy, boy, man
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| You wanna talk to me, whiteboy, man
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| And I’m all mashed up
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| Mum’s droning on and on, and on, and on
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| And I’m all mashed up
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| Mum’s droning on and on, and on, and on
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| She wants this, she wants that
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| She wants bling, she wants tat
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| She wants creams that can cover the cracks
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| Wedded bliss, cancer scans
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| She wants family man
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| Self esteem and her old body back
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| She says
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| You wanna talk to me, whiteboy, man
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| You wanna talk to me, whiteboy, boy, man
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| You wanna talk to me, whiteboy, man |