I don't want to go back anymore. I don't wanna go to work in the rain. No more toast grilled on the heater. No more of that A&R girl. And having to meet her. My person is in race everywhere. [embraced?] You Pep! And I stick my parker pen under my ear Beneath my own carefully scruffed hair. What I wear Have to check out of a boutique lair Hang on Hang on, [live in St. Anne's with me.] Into the room of the bass player. Why would you go up stairs? You Pep! Don't think he's going to get in slippy North of Hamptonshire. I believe there's a new drug out. [It's called speed I] wrote a song about it Conceptually a la Bowie. But it's been lost in the vaults of the record company By our manager So instead our new 45 is 'Girlies' [His eyes are brown.] Yours, brattingly. Everyone says "please" Anyway it's a race in life Wait to say it in Lancashire You Pep! You had the best summer And now it's wearing off. No more excuses For your traitorism.
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