Sup up your beer and collect your fags, There's a row going on down near Slough, Get out your mat and pray to the West, I'll get out mine and pray for
Girl on the phone keeps a-ringing back Her voice is smooth but the tone is bland She's telling me this and she's telling me that She talks about me and
Whenever I'm with you Something inside starts burning Snd my hearts filled with fire Stop this - it's got a hold on me I said this ain't the way it'
Here we go again, it's Monday at last, He's heading for the Waterloo line, To catch the 8 a.m. fast, its usually dead on time, Hope it isn't late, got
Its funny how you never knew what my name was, Our only contact was a form for the election. These days I find that you don't listen, These days I find
Closer than close you see yourself A mirrored image of what you wanted to be. As each day goes by a little more You can't remember what it was you
Meet me on the wastelands later this day, We'll sit and talk and hold hands maybe, For there's not much else to do in this drab and colourless place.
Saturday's boys live life with insults, Drink lots of beer and wait for half time results, Afternoon tea in the light-a-bite chat up the girls they dig
Times were so tough, but not as tough as they are now, We were so close and nothing came between us and the world - No personal situations. Thick as
Dear, How are things in your little world, I hope they're going well and you are too. Do you still see the same old crowd, the ones who used to meet
mythical Malibu The San Andreas Misfortune Will claim the lives of sons and wives The headlines will fill page after page California's on my mind Surf and sand setting
