Lyrics:

I'm hanging about down the market street
I spent a lot of time on my feet
When I saw some passing yabbos
And we did chance to speak
But I knew how to sing, you know
And they knew how to pose
And one of them had a Les Paul
Heart attack machine

All the young punks, laugh your life
Because there aren't much to cry for
All you young cunts, live it now
Because there aren't much to die for

Everybody wants to bum a ride on the rock and roller coaster
And we went out and got our name in small print on the poster
Of course we got a manager and though he isn't the mafia
A contract is a contract, when they get them out of here


You got to drag yourself to work
Drug yourself to sleep
You're dead from the neck up
By the middle of the week
Face front you got the future
Shining like a piece of gold
But I swear as we get closer
It look more like a lump of coal
But it's better than some factory
Now that's no place to waste your youth
I worked there for a week once
And I luckily got the boot