Roll a gasper The guard said he could stay alive But he has to shovel and burn his friends to die People do die and on the gate read 'Arbeit macht frei
Is it cruel or kind not to speak my mind And to lie to you rather than hurt you? Well, I'll confess all of of my sins After several large gins But still
Professionally trendy in the glow of Clapham Sun There's life after work and it can be such fun You see all the models in magazines and on the walls You
There's a campaign of hate It's waiting at the school gates Not for what I am aware Must be what you wrote What you write, mmm You swore that you'd swear
Ahh, don't be shy Don't be shy For if you are shy for tomorrow You'll be shy for One thousand days, yea Hey, hey, hey, hey Don't be shy Don't be shy
Please don't get me wrong See I forgive you in a song Will call the likely lads But, if it's left to you I know exactly what you'd do With all the dreams
Shoop shoop, shoop delang a lang Shoop shoop, shoop delang a lang Shoop shoop, shoop delang a lang Shoop shoop, shoop delang a lang Shoop shoop, shoop
I have a secret for you I've been told if you want to make it in this game Got to have the luck You got to have the look To make what I quite like to
An ending fitting for the start You twist and tore our love apart Your light fingers through the dark Shattered the lamp, into darkness it cast us all
How can we (How can we) Make you understand (Make you understand) All you can be (All you can be) Is given in your hand (Is given in your hand) Oh you
Did you see the stylish kids in the riot? Shovelled up like muck Set the night on fire Wombles bleed truncheons and shields You know, I cherish you my
The ideal girl, in London from France Came over then left me, she left me entranced Now I have to get by once again on my own Nothing but memories So
If you get tired Of just hanging around Pick up a guitar And spin a web of sound And then you could be Strung out all day With lovers and clowns Now
If I have to go I will be thinkin' of your love Oh somehow you'll know You will know Thinkin' of your love Sadly they whispered away As I played the
A problem, becomes a problem When you let down your friends When you let down the people When you let down yourself Ohh, ooo, ooo, oo And only fools,
High register operational In the land of the gouging skiving sun Their bodies in the room, lad Never an honest day's work is done They call it the Tomblands
What a waster, what a fucking waster You pissed it all up the wall And 'round the corner where they chased her There's tears falling out from everywhere
The Lust of the Libertines Is really quite tame It rages quietly nigh here beside you And your lust for fame But fame is such a sinister game, I know...
