LONDON BOYS(Thunders/Lure/Rath) Are you telling me, you shut my mouth If I wasn’t ***** ***** you wouldn’t be around You talk about faggot, little mummy’s boy You’re still at home, you’ve got your chaperone You need an escort to take a piss He holds your hand and he shakes your dick You’re so pretty, suburban kitty You think you’re gonna change, re-arrange that city Little London boys You’re little London boys You’re little London boys You think you’re gonna change me? A little rich kid, what do you know You had everything don’t you think it don’t show A-hiding in the closet just a-facing the wall Too Much Too Soon - do you recall? Have a holiday in the city Dildo souvenirs, vaseline pretty You don’t need no junkies just LSD, You won’t get shot, shot by me Little London boys You’re little London boys You’re little London boys You think you’re gonna change me, ha ha! Little London boys You’re little London boys You’re little London boys You think you’re gonna change me? Little London boys Little London boys Little London boys Little London boys... **** answers on a postcard, please! Published by EMI Virgin Music/Jungle Music |
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TOO MUCH JUNKIE BUSINESS (Thunders/Lure) Well you run down to the corner baby, see what you can cop You buy some for your sister and you take yours off the top Run into the bathroom, fixing up a shot Tie it up, shoot it up, bang your head and throw it up Too much junkie business Too much junkie business Too much junkie business I don’t wanna fuck around with you Your life becomes as sickening as that mess you call your face The pig you call your girlfriend is dead from shooting mace Climbing up the walls, you’re shooting all my balls (/old moth balls?) Wrap it up, call it art, now your record makes the chart Too much junkie business Too much junkie business Too much junkie business I don’t wanna fuck around with you Too much junk, too much junk Too much junk, too much junk Too much junk, too much junk I don’t wanna see her hanging out with you Well you’re the coolest thing in town, with your face right on the ground Friends went through your pockets as the coffin went down You overdosed at last, spike stuck in your head Now you’re dead… dead! dead! dead! Too much junkie business Too much junkie business Too much junkie business I don’t wanna fuck around with you Too much junk, too much junk Too much junk, in your head Published by EMI Virgin Music/Jungle Music |