| Me and my friends gonna make a pile of money
|
| Gonna check it out every day
|
| Me and my wife gonna need every penny
|
| 'Cos we’re throwing it all away
|
| But I’m changing my tune now
|
| And I’m breaking away
|
| Me and my friends we’re rugged little rockers
|
| And we’re lazing away the day
|
| Hot wax, jacked-up on the televison
|
| And forgetting about the pay
|
| But I’m changing my tune now
|
| And I’m breaking away
|
| Breaking away
|
| Four rockers rollin' with a poet in the wings
|
| Waiting to blow his heart away
|
| Beanos with the road crew, postcards to the wife
|
| Stating the menu of the day
|
| Flying through to breakfast, sleeping on the plane
|
| Looking a good deal better than we’ll ever feel again
|
| Is it really worth it? |
| Could it all be real?
|
| Am I just living out a dream?
|
| Sitting in the hotel, falling off the stage
|
| Tuning into the Wonga Queen
|
| Old men in boy’s clothes has gone beyond a joke
|
| Skin me another and pass along the whisky and the coke
|
| Me and my friends are hating everybody
|
| Who was telling us what to say
|
| Heads down, rocking on up and down the country
|
| Living from day to day
|
| But I’m changing my tune now
|
| And I’m breaking away
|
| I’m breaking away |