| My cat says ack
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| Hit the North, will ya Hit the North
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| Would you credit it, town and county names exist like Bradford
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| Just sav…
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| Computers infest the hotels
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| Cops can’t catch criminals (I'm, uh, wired)
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| But what the heck, they’re not too bad, they talk to God
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| Those were just savages, those were just savages
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| In Him we trust
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| Hit the North, will ya Hit the North
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| Can’t get a break on those estates, but what the heck
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| Under wrong influence from French corpse, light summer-type pale
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| Lemon clothes, young Connie-type aerobic chicks
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| Manacled to the city, manacled to the city
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| Those big big big wide streets
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| Those useless MPs
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| Those useless MPs
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| Hit the North
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| All estate agents alive yell down the nights in hysterical breath
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| The government say, the government says
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| Go forth, go forth
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| No lights so pretty
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| In the reflected mirror of delirium, Eastender and Victorian
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| Lager
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| The induced call, mysterious, comes forth — Hit the North |