Favourite song lyrics

482 posts in this topic

 

Every time I close my eyes I can clearly see

The image of your smile shine through my darkest dreams

I never thought that I'd find myself this close, this close

To you, my dear, tell me what it means

Turn it in Friday. It's only Wednesday <_<

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Looks like a bloody chocolate soldier. Who took the wrapper off?

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Now THERE's a name for a song ;)

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Oh and it's a sad reminder

when your organ grinder has to come to you for rent.

And all you've got to give him is the use of your side-show tent.

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Went to a party

I danced all night

I drank 16 beers

And I started up a fight

 

But now I am jaded

You're out of luck

I'm rolling down the stairs

Too drunk to fuck

 

Too drunk to fuck

Too drunk to fuck

Too drunk, to fuck

I'm too drunk, too drunk, too drunk

To fuck

 

I like your stories

I love your gun

Shooting out truck tires

Sounds like loads and loads of fun

 

But in my room

Wish you were dead

You ball like the baby

In Eraserhead

 

Too drunk to fuck

Too drunk to fuck

Too drunk, to fuck

It's all I need right now

Too drunk to fuck

 

Too drunk to fuck

Too drunk to fuck

Too drunk, to fuck

I'm sick soft gooey and cold

Too drunk to fuck

 

I'm about to drop

My head's a mess

The only salvation is

I'll never see you again

 

You give me head

It makes it worse

Take out your fuckin' retainer

Put it in your purse

 

I'm too drunk to fuck

You're to drunk to fuck

Too drunk to fuck

It's all I need right now Oh baby

I'm melting like an ice cream bar

Oh baby

 

And now I got diarrhea

Too drunk to fuck

Yeah, Yeah

Yeah, Yeah

Yeah, Yeah

Oooohhh

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Macc Lads - Buenos Aries

 

Get at \'em.

There was a load bloody faries,

In Buenos bloody Aries,

With greasy hair and sweaty bums,

They\'d never heard of Bonningtons,

It were a different culture and a different race,

No chippies in bloody place.

You can keep that poof Fartiles,

\'Cos we\'re going to have your Malvines.

Hey up, hey up, hey up, hey up.

Well, they got us back son, without a doubt,

Time to sort them bastards out,

Costa Mendes lives in fear

Of real men who can hold their beer.

Sing hey hey hey the lads are on their way,

With their bayonets and their tommy guns

And their bellies full of Bonningtons.

Hey up, hey up, hey up, hey up. Whoo!

Get in there my son, let\'s set up a couple of pubs.

Let the bitter flow, nuke \'em till they glow...

Hey up, hey up, hey up, hey up.

Fray Bentos and cheap red wine is all they eat in the Argentine,

But after a scrap with the English Navy,

They\'ll ask for the recipe for chips and gravy.

Sing hey, hey, hey, the lads are on their way,

With their bayonets and their tommy guns,

And their bellies full of Bonningtons.

(Repeat to end)

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Ah! The DK's "Too Drunk To Fuck". :D I've still got the T-Shirt and the single somewhere at home.

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Ah! The DK\'s \"Too Drunk To Fuck\". I\'ve still got the T-Shirt and the single somewhere at home.

its long time since i heard that song.

 

btw i bet you would get a load for those on ebay

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btw i bet you would get a load for those on ebay

You should 'ave a gander at my collection of 45's mate: Anarchy In The UK, God Save The Queen (pic cover), Pretty Vacant, Holidays In The Sun (banned/withdrawn pic cover), Etc. I could go on all day. Trouble is, when you're skint and you sell them, how bad do you feel later?

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I got a disco medley of Sex Pistols songs the other week. :D

I'm luvvin:

 

Ronny Biggs was doing time

Till he done a bunk

then he said he saw the light

And sold his soul to funk

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@MT i love the lyrics to that song (the original that is) reminds me of when i was a nipper and my cousin, who was a punk, used to babysit whilst my old man was out on a gig.

 

Its no wonder i swear like a trooper :D

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@sin yea but just think how pissed you could get with the money

It don't work like that. Two of me cousins were deeply involved in the whole Punk/Pistols thing. Alistair ran a fanzine called Kids Stuff. He was the only 'journalist' into Parkhurt Prison when The Pistols played there. He hated the New York punks, so he'd get all these 'A' singles (only for promotional use) and give them to little kid cousin me. This is where my love of Television, The Voidoids, The Ramones, Talking Heads, Patti Smith and Wayne County & The Electric Chairs comes from. He and his brother Glyn ended up as roadies on that terrible curse of a final US tour. Glyn stayed to roadie for The Clash and The Damned who had far more success the other side of the pond. Alistair sold all his stuff when he was skint in the early 90's for peanuts: private pics, collectors stuff and even one of Jonesey's nicked guitars. I got skint in the late 90's and sold all those bloody 'A' singles. Makes me want to cry sometimes, it do. :(

 

Me couz Alistair will always be my family hero purely because of one reason only: he shagged Souixie, the dirty rotten lucky bastard.

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Ahem...a very good friend of mine...and Mari Wilson...Post Hitchin Regal gig.

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I got a disco medley of Sex Pistols songs the other week.

I'm luvvin:

 

Ronny Biggs was doing time

Till he done a bunk

then he said he saw the light

And sold his soul to funk

:lol: no doubt Sin thinks it's sacrilegious, but I'd quite like to give that a listen

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Nah. It's just sad (Jonesey and Cook with Ronnie Biggs, not MT's medley). I fuckin' still hate Malcolm McLaren.

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Twenty Four Hour Garage People by Half Man Half Biscuit

 

I fancy I'll open a stationers

Stock quaint notepads for weekend pagans

While you were out at the Rollwright Stones

I came and set fire to your shed

 

'Cause you probably work at an all-night garage

You probably work at an all-night garage

You probably work at an all-night garage

With talk radio on

 

And you curse my soul 'cause I don't want petrol

You curse my soul 'cause I don't want petrol

I only came down for a tube of Pringles

Sour cream and chive

 

Because you've got to get up off your fat arse to go and get my crisps,

And you've gotta go 'round the counter

And it's really...

Inconvenient

 

And when you come back you toss them into that sliding metal tray device thing that separates us

And you say "One pound thirty-five",

As opposed to, "That'll be one pound thirty-five please Sir"

This is of course done to annoy me, but has the opposite effect

And amuses me no end, because suddenly, I've got other things to buy

 

I'll have two scotch eggs and a jar of Marmite

Two scotch eggs and a jar of Marmite

Two scotch eggs and a jar of Marmite

What sandwiches have you got?

 

Well now you've become quite irate

And your voice becomes louder, and you start to sound like Leadbelly at the Depot

"I got HAM"

"I got CHEESE"

"I got CHICKEN"

"I got BEEF"

"I got TUNA sweetcorn, I got TUNA sweetcorn"

 

I'll have ten Kit-Kats and a motoring atlas

Ten Kit-Kats and a motoring atlas

And a blues CD on the Hallmark label

That's sure to be good

 

X-mas on the isthmus by Terry Allen

 

It's X-mas on the Isthmus

of Panama

We're listless this Christmas

No Santa Claus

No wise men, no angels

No mistletoe trucks

No reindeer, no shepherds

We're shit out of luck

 

Ah we hung all our stockings

On the palm trees with care

Stayed up all night

Still nothin there

So we snorted some incense

And shot up some myrrh

Stayed up two more days

Just to make sure

 

Ah it's X-mas on the Isthmus

of Panama

It's hopeless, we're dopeless

No Santa Claus

No wise men, no angels

No mistletoe trucks

No reindeer, no shepherds

We're shit out of luck

 

Bethlehem...Bethle-her ... Bethle-you

Bethle-me ... Mucho

 

Ah there's something about X-mas

That brings me to tears

Snowmen an chestnuts

An roastin reindeers

That story from the Bible

God's only son

The immaculate injection

Ah you know the one

 

Well they wadn't from around here

They was Judean strangers

So they called up the front desk

"Let me speak to the Manger"

There was horses, there was cows

There was sheep, there was pigs

Mary asked Joseph

"Hey who booked this gig?"

 

Ah it's X-mas on the Isthmus

of Panama

We're shiftless, we're giftless

No Santa Claus

No wise men, no angels

No mistletoe trucks

No reindeer, no shepherds

We're shit out of luck

Bethlehem...Bethle-her ... Bethle-you

Bethle-me ... Mucho

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