I cannot recomend this guy enough.
There is nothing like it, and this is the only time that I have ever said this, but I can absolutly connect to the lyrics. It is not me... Bah. Im tired. Please Please Listen to this guy. There is a myspace.
There is nothing like it, and this is the only time that I have ever said this, but I can absolutly connect to the lyrics. It is not me... Bah. Im tired. Please Please Listen to this guy. There is a myspace.
Thatcher Fucked The Kids
Whatever happened to childhood?
We're all scared of the kids in our neighboorhood;
They're not small, charming and harmless,
They're a violent bunch of bastard little shits.
And anyone who looks younger than me
Makes me check for my wallet, my phone and my keys,
And I'm tired of being tired out
Always being on the lookout for thieving gits.
We're all wondering how we ended up so scared;
We spent ten long years teaching our kids not to care
And that "there's no such thing as society" anyway,
And all the rich folks act surprised
When all sense of community dies,
But you just closed your eyes to the other sidev Of all the things that she did.
Thatcher fucked the kids.
And it seems a little bit rich to me,
The way the rich only ever talk of charity
In times like the seventies, the broken down economy
Meant even the upper tier was needing some help.
But as soon as things look brighter,
Yeah the grin gets wider and the grip gets tighter,
And for every teenage tracksuit mugger
There's a guy in a suit who wouldn't lift a finger for anybody else.
You've got a generation raised on the welfare state,
Enjoyed all its benefits and did just great,
But as soon as they were settled as the richest of the rich,
They kicked away the ladder, told the rest of us that life's a bitch.
And it's no surprise that all the fuck-ups
Didn't show up until the kids had grown up.
But when no one ever smiles or ever helps a stranger,
Is it any fucking wonder our society's in danger of collapse?
So all the kids are bastards,
But don't blame them, yeah, they learn by example.
Blame the folks who sold the future for the highest bid:
That's right, Thatcher fucked the kids.
Whatever happened to childhood?
We're all scared of the kids in our neighboorhood;
They're not small, charming and harmless,
They're a violent bunch of bastard little shits.
And anyone who looks younger than me
Makes me check for my wallet, my phone and my keys,
And I'm tired of being tired out
Always being on the lookout for thieving gits.
We're all wondering how we ended up so scared;
We spent ten long years teaching our kids not to care
And that "there's no such thing as society" anyway,
And all the rich folks act surprised
When all sense of community dies,
But you just closed your eyes to the other sidev Of all the things that she did.
Thatcher fucked the kids.
And it seems a little bit rich to me,
The way the rich only ever talk of charity
In times like the seventies, the broken down economy
Meant even the upper tier was needing some help.
But as soon as things look brighter,
Yeah the grin gets wider and the grip gets tighter,
And for every teenage tracksuit mugger
There's a guy in a suit who wouldn't lift a finger for anybody else.
You've got a generation raised on the welfare state,
Enjoyed all its benefits and did just great,
But as soon as they were settled as the richest of the rich,
They kicked away the ladder, told the rest of us that life's a bitch.
And it's no surprise that all the fuck-ups
Didn't show up until the kids had grown up.
But when no one ever smiles or ever helps a stranger,
Is it any fucking wonder our society's in danger of collapse?
So all the kids are bastards,
But don't blame them, yeah, they learn by example.
Blame the folks who sold the future for the highest bid:
That's right, Thatcher fucked the kids.
Casanova Lament
I check that I've got all my things before I leave the house,
Because when I'm gone I'm never coming back.
I'm not being melodramatic, it's just I neither have your number or a key.
An evening spent pretending that we're just becoming friends,
Or this goes any further than going back;
I'm not being pessimistic, it's just you and I were never meant to be.
It isn't love, but every time I kind of wish it was.
I've picked up this silly habit in the last few years of going out
In the evening with my friends into the town,
Of packing a spare T-shirt in my bag in case I do not make it home.
It's pathetic and I know it, but the truth is there've been mornings
I've proved prudent taking toothpaste to the pub.
But that's precious little comfort against the knowledge of the person I've become.
It isn't love, but every time I kind of wish it was,
And I can see that in your eyes you wish it was,
But every time I leave you just because
It isn't love.
I check that I've got all my things before I leave the house,
Because when I'm gone I'm never coming back.
I'm not being melodramatic, it's just I neither have your number or a key.
An evening spent pretending that we're just becoming friends,
Or this goes any further than going back;
I'm not being pessimistic, it's just you and I were never meant to be.
It isn't love, but every time I kind of wish it was.
I've picked up this silly habit in the last few years of going out
In the evening with my friends into the town,
Of packing a spare T-shirt in my bag in case I do not make it home.
It's pathetic and I know it, but the truth is there've been mornings
I've proved prudent taking toothpaste to the pub.
But that's precious little comfort against the knowledge of the person I've become.
It isn't love, but every time I kind of wish it was,
And I can see that in your eyes you wish it was,
But every time I leave you just because
It isn't love.
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