Lost in this skin, go witherin' down Half-past seven on my upside down Don't know where I'm going, don't know where I've been Just know where I'm moving, gotta go it again Lost on your estate, don't know how Leaving here, gotta get out now Lost in this place, don't know now Leaving soon, but I love you now
Police out lookin' for a blonde-haired woman She's five-foot-five, last seen alive By the Southern Fried Chicken on the High Street, bookin' A cab from a man that you can't describe Her friends scream: Rape! police, they flash by Holdin' everybody up, but it's over now Found a tossed soul in an old suitcase And a head floatin' high in the old canal
She says, I know you feel the rage In the calibre of the cage It makes you turn away But I love you anyway
Yeah, April 23rd where the boys all look St George's Day, pray it don't get much worse And the young ones listen to the elders' words And they rile them all up screamin': Britain's First! Lean in slow, say: It ain't my bag So they call you a faggot and they push you back They go out late night on the attack And they beat a Tali-man with a baseball bat
She says, I know you feel the rage In the calibre of the cage It makes you walk away And I love you anyway She says, I know you feel the rage In the calibre of the cage It made you walk away And I love you anyway
Friends all say you're a coward now And they make you sniff alone in the King and Cow Never seen a girl with so much grace She walked right by with a smile on her face Said, I'll be your friend whether using or not It's a fine line but it's all I got Wrapped in the cage, speak, pick up And then you hold influence 'til the sun comes up
Compositor: Jamie Alexander Treays (Jamie T) (PRS)Editor: Kobalt Music Pub Ltd (ABRAMUS)ECAD verificado obra #15665416 em 20/Abr/2024 com dados da UBEM