— Turn left at the lights about 50 yards down — There’s a pub on the corner and I’ll meet you inside
— At quarter to eight and we’ll go into town — And find out what everybody’s been saying — About us
— Smalltown walls have eyes and ears — Stories fly thick and fast around here — Truth and lies
Are all the same — Whatever you do don’t rock the boat — You’ve got to play the game, play the game
Ch: — Is it a crime to want something else — Is it a crime to believe in something different — Is
It a crime to want to make things happen — To spit in the faces of the cynical fools
— The incrowd know that the shell is thin — They all protect the cage they’re in — Get drunk
And stoned and wrecked again — No tears of rage, no cries of pain — Nothing ventured, nothing
Gained — In smalltown England
— The world outside the oint in hand — Is all so hard to understand — And if visions of the
World come clear — They’re not allowed to interfere
Ch: — Is it a crime . . . . .
— The smell of hot food from the takeaway curry — Diesel fumes from a passing lorry — Waiting
In the queue in the pouring rain — For the chip shop up on Bowling Lane — Well last week we
All got really smashed — We couldn’t stand up, it was a real laugh — And this week’s going to
Be just the same — And the next and the next, again and again — They say you’ve got to have
Fun while you’re young — ‘Cos they can’t believe there’s anything else except this