Jamie T - Pacemaker lyrics
[Jamie T - Pacemaker lyrics]
(Ah-roo) Juveniles, hide your porno mags
The girl's got problems at her yard
So she's packing up her bags full of rags
Her man got done from Po Na Na
While the Madras still in the kitchen
Smokes a twenty deck of fags
Body bags come back on
Planes from war-torn Iraq
It's the stark naked truth, a dark aftermath
Baby T, the juice, and the dog just barks
Remember, man
The bully always had the last laugh (Ah-roo)
Haha, haha, haha!
It was a blast last night down the old 12 Bar
White socks
Black shoes with the ballads in the car
With a lump in your throat
She won't understand
Twos on a cigarette and talk blah-blah
Bloody hell, di-ob la da, glug down liquor
Life goes on for all the day trippers
Starts off small but it's gonna get bigger
By the end of this letter
It may all be better
Well, she's always asking with the who
Where and how the girls say, "Ooh, la la"
Well if I had another chance
I'd do it differently now
And the girls say, "Ooh
La la la la la la la" from Trafalgar Square
Where the crack pipe reeking
To in your dark damp flat
The ceiling's leaking you fell in love when
You first started chatting
But got so bored 'cause
She never stopped speaking
Consider this son one of bad behaviour
Keeping all the freebies
Delivering the papers
You haters shake down fakers
Ah, you'll never get nowhere
'cause I'm the pacemaker (Keep up
Runny, runny run, keep up)
Pretty please, me, ah, she's easy on the eye
Some say that today only the good young die
Yippee oh ki yay, it's been a right good day
I wanna ask questions but I don't mean pry
How did you get to where you're going to
Before you came Slowly moseying
Through this bar? You started your race
Johnny Cock-a-Roo wants his money
Better give up the man
He's a fruit and nut bar
(I'm serious, he's a real nutter)
Gotta see the GP, coughing up lungs
And the doc said, "Stop
Or you're gonna die young"
Well, I haven't even started to
Do what I done
"You young don't listen, you just carry on"
Well, we heard it all before
When your song got sung "Get a grip
Son" "Why?" "'Cause you're always drunken"
We're not captains, just skivvy sunken
Hum drum drum drum, live fast, die young
Blister skin stumbling, road rocky
And trespassers on the private property
Remember back then it was the rant
The banter
Young songs watch their young pas get cancer
While vagabond Sandy crying out for a nista
Missed her so much that he
Went drank the brewery
Sing-a-long Sam, this a song about you
And we all went out and we got pistola
I don't wanna fight, he's a right big cunt
But the fellas say, "Go on, my son, my son!"
Well, it's all a bit of
Fun 'til someone gets done
But the fellas say, "Go on, my son, my son!"
Well, I'm more likely to pick up and run
But the fellas say, "Go on, my son, my son!"
Ah, fuck it, well, he's a right big cunt
But I'll knock him one fuck that, run, run!
The girl's got problems at her yard
So she's packing up her bags full of rags
Her man got done from Po Na Na
While the Madras still in the kitchen
Smokes a twenty deck of fags
Body bags come back on
Planes from war-torn Iraq
It's the stark naked truth, a dark aftermath
Baby T, the juice, and the dog just barks
Remember, man
The bully always had the last laugh (Ah-roo)
Haha, haha, haha!
It was a blast last night down the old 12 Bar
White socks
Black shoes with the ballads in the car
With a lump in your throat
She won't understand
Twos on a cigarette and talk blah-blah
Bloody hell, di-ob la da, glug down liquor
Life goes on for all the day trippers
Starts off small but it's gonna get bigger
By the end of this letter
It may all be better
Well, she's always asking with the who
Where and how the girls say, "Ooh, la la"
Well if I had another chance
I'd do it differently now
And the girls say, "Ooh
La la la la la la la" from Trafalgar Square
Where the crack pipe reeking
To in your dark damp flat
The ceiling's leaking you fell in love when
You first started chatting
But got so bored 'cause
She never stopped speaking
Consider this son one of bad behaviour
Keeping all the freebies
Delivering the papers
You haters shake down fakers
Ah, you'll never get nowhere
'cause I'm the pacemaker (Keep up
Runny, runny run, keep up)
Pretty please, me, ah, she's easy on the eye
Some say that today only the good young die
Yippee oh ki yay, it's been a right good day
I wanna ask questions but I don't mean pry
How did you get to where you're going to
Before you came Slowly moseying
Through this bar? You started your race
Johnny Cock-a-Roo wants his money
Better give up the man
He's a fruit and nut bar
(I'm serious, he's a real nutter)
Gotta see the GP, coughing up lungs
And the doc said, "Stop
Or you're gonna die young"
Well, I haven't even started to
Do what I done
"You young don't listen, you just carry on"
Well, we heard it all before
When your song got sung "Get a grip
Son" "Why?" "'Cause you're always drunken"
We're not captains, just skivvy sunken
Hum drum drum drum, live fast, die young
Blister skin stumbling, road rocky
And trespassers on the private property
Remember back then it was the rant
The banter
Young songs watch their young pas get cancer
While vagabond Sandy crying out for a nista
Missed her so much that he
Went drank the brewery
Sing-a-long Sam, this a song about you
And we all went out and we got pistola
I don't wanna fight, he's a right big cunt
But the fellas say, "Go on, my son, my son!"
Well, it's all a bit of
Fun 'til someone gets done
But the fellas say, "Go on, my son, my son!"
Well, I'm more likely to pick up and run
But the fellas say, "Go on, my son, my son!"
Ah, fuck it, well, he's a right big cunt
But I'll knock him one fuck that, run, run!