| You know the fakes will always bite
|
| Whenever you go throw the line
|
| Fishing
|
| Gudgeons and perch
|
| All draped in sponsorships
|
| And hugging self-worth
|
| Like me
|
| You know the fakes who hide behind
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| The little myth’s that like to chime for 'em
|
| All grit and dirt
|
| Until the mask falls off
|
| And what you got is Sesame Street
|
| Big bird
|
| You can’t be splashing, you got no fins
|
| You’re getting salty, you ain’t a fish
|
| You know now I just fantasise
|
| In an house three times the size of my old one
|
| And I pretend that it don’t matter
|
| Passed Oliver Bonas in the Chelsea tractor
|
| You can’t be splashing, you got no fins
|
| You’re getting salty, you ain’t a fish
|
| You’re getting shirty
|
| Your cheeky cuffy getting dragged 'round by your sleeves
|
| You can’t be splashing, you got no fins
|
| You’re getting salty, you ain’t a fish
|
| You’re getting shirty
|
| Your cheeky cuffy getting dragged 'round by your sleeves
|
| You can’t be splashing, you got no fins
|
| You’re getting salty, you ain’t a fish
|
| You’re getting shirty
|
| Your cheeky cuffy getting dragged 'round by your sleeves
|
| You can’t be splashing, you got no fins
|
| You’re getting salty, you ain’t a fish
|
| You’re getting shirty
|
| Your cheeky cuffy getting dragged 'round by your sleeves
|
| You’re getting dragged 'round by your sleeves
|
| You’re getting dragged 'round by your sleeves
|
| You’re getting dragged 'round by your sleeves |