Dizraeli - Engurland lyrics
[Dizraeli - Engurland lyrics]
Skin cancer costs an arm and a leg, man
People on the beach self
Harming to get tanned
Laid out flat like an army of dead man's
Red necks, red bellies
That expand and contract
Like jellyfish on the wet sand
Very Engurlish, suncream and sweaty hands
Mingled in with tepid lager
I’m on my 7th can-
Can I kick it? Probably not very elegant
Stepping over spaghetti Bacardi Breezer sick
Chilli sauce on my portion of cheesy chips
Silly thoughts, tell a stranger he’s a prick-
Receive a hit, lips and teeth are split
But it in’t a party unless you bleed a bit
Bit of a geezer, telling Lisa she’s a fitty
Grab her tit's
And she’s throwing a seizure fit
Now I’m sleeping in a cell, police are dicks
Engurland, mingerland, middle fingerland
Footie song singerland
Baddiel and Skinner land school dinnerland
Red, white, brown and gingerland
Imperial hinterland perpetual winterland
Where happy pills are in demand
Engurland, engurland, engurland
Are you proud?
And it’s a land where families
Spend holidays in traffic jams
And radios play tracks by tragic bands
That have millions of avid fans
All little girls
Who crave a glitzy soundtrack
To their shitty world
Where there’s poison in the food
And chlorine in the water
And models in the nude, in every shop
On every corner and disorders of mind
And bulk orders of baked beans
'Cos here are 3 kids
And their mother aged eighteen
And they dream of stardom
Watching the X-Factor-y
But they have no garden
And nowhere to practise being
Therefore, they question what
They’re there for
And why there’s armed policemen
Outside Mr Blair’s door
… then they reach their teens
And learn to count up to ten Bensons
Hiding behind hedges
Burning pubescent tension
What’s progression? Let the Daily
Mail write your starchart-
"this week you’ll lose your
Virginity in a carpark next week
You’ll take your first ecstasy pill
Nine pints of White Lightning
And get messily ill the week after that
Perhaps you’ll get a job in Lidl
You can stop believing
But you can’t stop the drizzle
You can stop believing but you
Can’t stop the drizzle
Stop believing- you can’t stop the drizzle"
And we sing we sing we keep singing
Engurland, mingerland, middle fingerland
Footie song singerland
Baddiel and Skinner land school dinnerland
Red white, brown and gingerland
Imperial hinterland perpetual winterland
Where happy pills are in demand
Engurland, engurland, engurland
Are you proud?
People on the beach self
Harming to get tanned
Laid out flat like an army of dead man's
Red necks, red bellies
That expand and contract
Like jellyfish on the wet sand
Very Engurlish, suncream and sweaty hands
Mingled in with tepid lager
I’m on my 7th can-
Can I kick it? Probably not very elegant
Stepping over spaghetti Bacardi Breezer sick
Chilli sauce on my portion of cheesy chips
Silly thoughts, tell a stranger he’s a prick-
Receive a hit, lips and teeth are split
But it in’t a party unless you bleed a bit
Bit of a geezer, telling Lisa she’s a fitty
Grab her tit's
And she’s throwing a seizure fit
Now I’m sleeping in a cell, police are dicks
Engurland, mingerland, middle fingerland
Footie song singerland
Baddiel and Skinner land school dinnerland
Red, white, brown and gingerland
Imperial hinterland perpetual winterland
Where happy pills are in demand
Engurland, engurland, engurland
Are you proud?
And it’s a land where families
Spend holidays in traffic jams
And radios play tracks by tragic bands
That have millions of avid fans
All little girls
Who crave a glitzy soundtrack
To their shitty world
Where there’s poison in the food
And chlorine in the water
And models in the nude, in every shop
On every corner and disorders of mind
And bulk orders of baked beans
'Cos here are 3 kids
And their mother aged eighteen
And they dream of stardom
Watching the X-Factor-y
But they have no garden
And nowhere to practise being
Therefore, they question what
They’re there for
And why there’s armed policemen
Outside Mr Blair’s door
… then they reach their teens
And learn to count up to ten Bensons
Hiding behind hedges
Burning pubescent tension
What’s progression? Let the Daily
Mail write your starchart-
"this week you’ll lose your
Virginity in a carpark next week
You’ll take your first ecstasy pill
Nine pints of White Lightning
And get messily ill the week after that
Perhaps you’ll get a job in Lidl
You can stop believing
But you can’t stop the drizzle
You can stop believing but you
Can’t stop the drizzle
Stop believing- you can’t stop the drizzle"
And we sing we sing we keep singing
Engurland, mingerland, middle fingerland
Footie song singerland
Baddiel and Skinner land school dinnerland
Red white, brown and gingerland
Imperial hinterland perpetual winterland
Where happy pills are in demand
Engurland, engurland, engurland
Are you proud?