Lyrics:

Gig you into the fucking ground I'm not moaning man I
Like the smell of mist on curbs near the beer garden at
Night, pedestrian walk ways, well if the council want a
No traffic zone that's sound mate, good with me I got a
Latte on I'm easy, undercover of the night telecaster
Pirate wanker, high seas, arthritis? yes please! I look like
The Michelin man yammed up on antibiotics nanny
Is that your auntie? what d'yer bring ya fucking auntie
For? what's he gunna do? You ain't got permission to
Unless I give it to you, to open ya mouth I want you to
Unplug the till from the canteen upstairs bring it down
Ere, plug it in and start dishing fucking refunds out!

Live tonight
Live tonight
Live tonight (every night)
Live tonight

Darcy de farcy back on the phones in two years real
Music real chorus no tears no fears I'll end mumbling
Away in a waiting room about the SAS mate, dirty neck
Barred from the last post the pub next to the church
It's all right blokes 'n' smokes it's all god and an eye for
An eye, still some out there who believe in the lie of work till you die, of Sundays apple pie, death waits for every man! it ain't like
Cakes from birds you don't get anything for your money
Back. pound back on the bottle of pop I tango and
Cashed it yam. cake tin, your job, my job, laughing, mate
Where we been? upstairs in the back kid on slop mod
Daft crop, I don't wear crap like that throwbacks all right
If ya doing something decent but I put ya CD on
It's fucking Shakin' Stevens

Live tonight
Live tonight
Live tonight (every night)
Live tonight

You know where the fucking shop is, don't ya?
Do you want one? Fine!
You know where the fucking shop is, don't ya?
Do you want one? Fine!
You know where the fucking shop is, don't ya?
Do you want one? Fine!
You know where the fucking shop is, don't ya?
Do you want one? Fine!
You know where the fucking shop is, don't ya?
Don't ya?
Don't ya?
Don't ya?