No Christmas for John Quays Come on get a bit of fucking guts into it What what
Well the powders reach you And the powders teach you But when you find they can't reach you There is no Christmas for junky
He thinks he is More interesting Than the world
Ah but buying fags Puts him in a whirl
I'll have a packet of three-five fives Will you fucking put the monitors on for Christ's sake? I'll have a packet of three-five fives I'll have 20 of those over there I'll have 20 No.6 for a headache And I've had enough right there, stop
(Why is this) Ah Ah Ah Ah Ah
He spits in the sky It falls in his eye And then he gets to sitting Talking to his kitten Talking about Frankie Lymon
Tell me why is it so? Tell me why is it so?
Why did the sky break today? Why did this happen today?
He goes out of his face with the Idle Race He goes out of the room with this tune
Although the skins are thin He knows its up to him To go out or stay in
I'll stay in I'll stay in Have a break
You Me X-Mas X-Mas
Well the powders reach you And the powders teach you But when you find they can't reach you There is no Christmas for junky There is no girls There is no curls Just the traffic passing by Bye bye bye bye bye bye bye bye
Open the room, there's a cloud of smoke Will you fucking get it together instead of showing off?
Give me one Give me B Give me three Give me D
No X-mas for John QuaysTeksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
