Lyrics Death to the Lads - The Smith Street Band

Death to the Lads

Staying in a hotel full of pilots
I can’t believe that they are smoking
If you mastered the art of flight
Why would you spend half your time choking?
Sleeping in a bedroom full of arseholes
Surely means I am one too
And I wake up and I go walking
And I think the wrong thing about you
And it was the best idea we ever had
Picked up our spirits and we sang
Death to the lads
Death to the lads
Death to the lads
As loud as we possibly can
Along the most depressing highways
Ever dropped into the earth
Among the Confederate flag lower back tattoo
That is this part of the world
We’re raising pets and kids in car parks
In the light of drive-in ATMs
I learned to read the side effects
I am my own adverse reaction
And it was the best idea we ever had
Picked up our voices and we sang
Death to the lads
Death to the lads
Death to the lads
As loud as we possibly can
Death to the lads
Death to the lads
Death to the lads
Get out of my fucking face, mate
Things get better, but they never get good
Things get better, but they never get good
No, they never get good
I don’t do anything I said I would
For things get better, but they never get good
And we sang
Death to the lads
Death to the lads
Death to the lads
Get out of my fucking face, mate