I've got dirt on my Reeboks from staying out all night I spent my last ten pounds on this pack of Marlboro Lights I phoned up Stevie, I said "G, you alright?" He said "It's six in the morning, brother! Get some shut-eye!" I feel a sense of well-being this time in the morning Wear my heart out on my hoodie while the city is snoring Drunks falling off the sidewalks, get issued a warning Distant sirens, they crescendo like a symphony calling This it the Britain I know, this is the Britain I love There's poetry inside this city if you listen enough Working class causalities out on the streets sleep rough While a mother with her baby takes her pram to the pub And while she's knocking them down, the cost of living goes up I can't relate to politicians with their head in the mud I resonate with messy Fridays, with the boys smoking bud We do our bit to numb the struggle, as below, so above As as above, so below, here in the city we glow I blow a smoke ring up to heaven and it makes a halo And then the clock strikes seven, guess it's time to head home My companion is the city, so I'm never alone I'm stepping in and out of gaps of the pavement cracks And if I go to sleep now, that's an anti-climax People rise for work and the sun mirrors that A perfect juxtaposition for those out on the lash Bare with me, it's beautiful, I think its irrefutable There's beauty in a contradicting Britain... Indisputable Junkie in a cubicle, that old spoon is usable His mother's in a black suit, crying at a funeral Nine to five crucible, this route is not commutable A kid falls off the tracks and then he serves a stretch in Juvenal Libbies at the Doleys but her dispositions humourful While Davey's at the bookies and his mates call him delusional Britain, drink it down and moan about the weather When the sun starts shining feel the factor 10 tremor Boys will be boys, will be in it together Until the fists start flying like they're Connor McGregor And then he's out... I think he took it too far I think the boy saw red, I think he hit him too hard Now he's face down on the pavement with a face full of tar Mad how small altercations can define who we are That's my cue! I guess it's time to head home It's bittersweet how my high found its way to be low And I've said it once before, as above, so below Living on the streets of Britain you just go with the flow
But I'm done, I'm out for the night As the sun paints the pavements, I'll turn out the light White noise on the radio to quiet my mind Always was an overthinker, just the way I'm designed Britain, drink it down and moan about the weather When it's all said and done we'll be in it altogether Boys will be boys, will be like it forever It's a bittersweet symphony, we're birds of a featherTeksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
