It's a Mug's Game

Oh god its another night

And your head is feeling

Like a lump of lead

You should never have drunk

Those party-fours

You should of been home being good instead

Ever been in a deja vue

and the end is the same again

You ran out of your silver thins

And you're trying to be so high class

Though you need a bath and your hair's looking like string

And though you're nearly broke you end up paying for all the drinks

And you tell them 'Oh its nothing

There's a million where those come from'

And then you whisper to your longest-suffering friend

'Please lend me a few quid'

Oh god it's another day

And your stomach's feeling

Like a blown-up balloon

You should never have eaten that greasy food

The doctor told you that chilli was bad for your blood

And you're standing at the chemist in Boots

Coughing up your guts like you're at deaths door

All this for a packet of Do-Do's

And the assistant gives you a wink and you turn bright red

It's at time like this that you wish you were dead

And you take the whole packet and you feel like you've drunk

A bottle of bleach

And you tell yourself 'Never, never again

Well, not until next week anyway'

And you were never one for holding drink

And you stagger off to the toilet

And you throw up like it was Christmas

And you miss the bowl and you hit your shoes

And there's no paper towels

Now what else can go wrong for you

It's a choice between a cab fare home

And a packet of cigarettes

So you choose and the money sticks

In the machine and the manager says

'Tough shit - drink up and leave'

Oh god it's another disease

And you just got rid of the last

You were beginning to feel OK

And the friends you gave it to

Were speaking to you again.

And you find yourself having sex

In the back of a car

And the girl underneath

Doesn't care who you are

And you're nearly there

And she still doesn't care

And her chewing gum

Is getting stuck in your hair

And there's something wrong

Something that you forgot

Oh Shit, you've forgotten the rubber

And you don't want a kid

Well, deny it was you

If your dad finds out

Then he'll make you stay in

And do your homework

And cut your hair

And wear your school uniform

Out in the street

Oh what a fate worse than death

Oh well he can't hit you

You can hit him back

And play your records so loud

All the ones that he especially hates

Deep Purple in Rock, Led Zeppelin II

Well even you hate those

Well on second thoughts

I think I'll leave home

And go and live in America

Because they earn more money there

And they can get away with murder - Yeah!