we were living down the tip, you were working for the gas
i was working for the m.o.d.
bargain buckets for our breakfast
pretty preachers for our lunch
and jason donovan for our tea
you had a biker chick, i had a lunatic
when the ceiling tumbled down on our beds
and we told it down the schooner
where the punk rockers lived
amongst the blue rinse tory heads
la-la-la-la-la
la-la-la-la-la
there was a bad mod rocker, in skinhead mocassins
ready for a killing spree
with his four sad mates selling racial hate
and he wants to beat the crap out of me
you were out of the door when the bottle hit my jaw
and the losers set about on me
when i caught you up there was no sign of blood
was i bleeding internally?
la-la-la-la-la
la-la-la-la-la
there was a thin black nurse with a king size needle
and she wants to take the piss out of me
with another standing by her with a shiny pair of plyers
in case of an emergency
i was wired up you see
no bargain buckets for my tea
and when my jaw bone healed
it was baby food for me
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