| This didn’t used to be me, old boy
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| This isn’t what I’d want
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| Pulling old night fighters
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| In a restaurant
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| There’s smoke and flames behind me
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| Where the self-respect all went
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| And I’m behind, behind
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| With the rent
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| I’ve been stitched up like a kipper, old son
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| But I won’t be again
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| Hell hath no fury
|
| Oh, I’m like a lot of men
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| Now I’m stalking this old Doris
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| With lascivious intent
|
| And I’m behind, behind
|
| With the rent
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| Just a little duck and dive
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| And a bit of wheel and deal
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| She’ll remind me I’m alive
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| She’ll remind me I still feel
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| Just a little shelling out
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| For a bit of you-know-what
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| I know this is all about
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| Something that I never got
|
| Well this crumpet’s past it’s sell-by-date
|
| But they all would qualify
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| They’re going to be lonely
|
| And be happy to comply
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| She knows that I’m a chancer
|
| Coming on like a gent
|
| But I’m behind, behind with the rent
|
| Yes, I’m behind, behind with the rent |