| You walked all the way from the Griffen to the Moon & Bell
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| Threw up outside the Curzon & that’s where you fell
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| And that’s how you ripped your tights
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| But you made it back on your feet all right
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| With the girl from Baker’s Oven holding back your hair
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| The girl from Baker’s Oven holding back your hair
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| The Garton had a 3 for 1 on beer and I was gone
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| I picked a fight I couldn’t finish with a Marine from the village
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| He won
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| And sometime later, on his birthday
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| He made the pages of the Leicester Mercury
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| «Get it out for the lads
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| Get it up for the British
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| Get it off for the town
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| Let it down for the village»
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| LA LA LA LA LA LA LA (LA LA LA LA LA LA LA)
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| LA LA LA LA LA LA LA (LA LA LA LA LA LA LA)
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| LA LA LA LA LA LA, LA LA LA LA LA LA LA
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| Well, we ended up in Echoes, making lips at the floor
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| We’d run out of conversation 2 Friday nights before
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| The room was spinning, I wasn’t dancing
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| The beat was much too old for dancing
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| My feet followed my neck and found the door
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| Oh, I wish I didn’t have to hang out here anymore
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| LA LA LA LA LA LA LA (LA LA LA LA LA LA LA)
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| LA LA LA LA LA LA LA (LA LA LA LA LA LA LA)
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| LA LA LA LA LA LA, LA LA LA LA LA LA LA
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| Well, you got a lift back home to Walton on the Wolds
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| With a head like the Waltzers, bruises and ashtray clothes
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| And in the evening when you wake up
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| You will slap make up on the make up
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| That you slapped on the skin the night before
|
| That you slapped on the skin the night before
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| LA LA LA LA LA LA LA (LA LA LA LA LA LA LA)
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| LA LA LA LA LA LA LA (LA LA LA LA LA LA LA)
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| LA LA LA LA LA LA, LA LA LA LA LA LA LA |