Mr. Jones knows The Stones. Rock 'n' roll is in his blood and in his bones. Shines his shoes, kicks some ass. Counts the booze and laminates his pass.
Once in a blue, your dreams come true. If someone's looking out for you. So party on dude, let's buy some booze. Go downtown and get tattoos. . Then go ahead and have good cry.
Don't open the box , take the money. Take it to the shops where we can spend it all, honey. . On 90's memorabilia and rock 'n' roll records. And experience the genius of Terrence and Leonard.
One of these days you'll get away from London town. Causing chaos and delay on the underground. I'll read your letter as I pass away the time. Stuck in a tunnel on the Hammersmith and City line.
Kids are playing gangster wars. They don't believe in Santa Claus. The baseball bats are soft of course. The blood is just tomato sauce. . As icebergs go, it's just the tip.
Princess resuscitates drowning tramp. Big business infiltrates postage stamp. Happy days are here again. And it's a gas man, oh boy. And we will enjoy ourselves.
You win some and you lose some. And I've lost the will to lose. With my part time job and my faith in God. Falling on a bruise. . And this no star bed and breakfast.
He is the People's poet and all the people know it. They've read his published stories in public lavatories. In town and country locals he's Mr. Antisocial.
Conspiracy theory number one. Jesus was a man from Mars. The stable was a pub called the Rising Sun. And the three wise men arrived in cars. . Conspiracy theory number two.
Cheer up, it might never happen. Drive by shootings on the streets of Clapham. Jackboots booting right across the map. And daddy's gone 'a looting with his pistol packin' mama.
I've lost a truly special friend. I swear I'll never drink again. I'd like to talk to you alone. If I could walk, I'd walk you home. I'd like to kiss you in the street.
A husband and wife and a whore. Bang, bang. A family of five maybe four. Bang, bang. . Everyone sing till you're sore. Bang, bang. There's no such thing as civil war.
There was November in your eyes. There'd be no pennies for the guys. There were fireworks over London. But you weren't among them anymore. . When it got darker the nightmares came.
Bloodsport for all, said Corporal Flash. And shoved me in a room full of C.S. gas. Stuck me in a wet-suit to dry off in the sun. And fed me pet food, Kit-e-kat and Chum.
Don't kiss me quick. I'm about to be sick. All over my favorite shoes. . If you pin back my tongue. With a stapling gun. It won't stop me from singing the blues.
The tequila sun is rising. And the Harvey's Bristol moon is sinking. Put the Binatone on snooze. Open up some special brews and start drinking. . To the biggest mess in town.
When Harry met Bob. Bob was an anarchist. Harry had a job. Working for the government. . Married to the M.O.D.. Bob, he chose Adidas. Harry found God.
Join the cubs, see the world. Pay your subs, meet the girls. Sell your toys be reborn. They love a boy in uniform. . 37 wasted years. Closeting his greatest fears.
Baby, let's break it down to basics. I'm crazy 'bout you, you're crazy 'bout me. I don't know why, don't know why, don't know why. We make it harder than it has to be, inevitably.
Sing to me a song that's blue. And I'll paint my eyes blue, that's what I'll do. If the sun is shinin' through. I'll smile for you, I'll smile for you.