Thatcher's Gold

Staring at the ground At a flattened-out Thatcher’s Gold Story as old as time itself Work all week, Friday Raise hell at the ring of the bell Gloves on as lads are scrapping And girls are cheering them on Party of one, please, in a six-seater Watching the meter tick up It seemed like a good idea at the time Fours years on Leaning at the bar Said you would, but you never moved far And everyone knows who you are Keys lost and it pissed you off Smashed phone on the floor “What’d you do that for?” Kicked off and you kicked out the door At kick-off at the match you went out for Now you’re soaking, cold and bored Don’t help that it’s raining, either Shake it off mate, it’s alright Take it easy, have a breather If it helps, do a shot of tequila Are you having a shit time? Stub it out on the bin Now your mates won’t come outside And now you can’t go in Locked out on a Friday night Henry Weston supernova Locked out but I feel alright Locked out on a Friday night Henry Weston supernova Locked out but I feel alright Same again over and over You were only twenty-two when you moved to the city And no, I don’t think you knew what you were getting yourself into Now you’re always out Giving her a shout Only got the guts before you pass out Two for a fiver (Five and drive) Designated driver She likes you, she don’t love you That’s something that you gotta get used to Said you couldn’t look her in the eye But it didn’t feel awkward in the sheets last night Now you can’t even find an outfit you like And your hair ain’t doing what you wish it would So you walk on down Sink a couple of pound “Fucking hell, twenty-five quid for a round?” Locked out on a Friday night Henry Weston supernova Locked out but I feel alright Locked out on a Friday night Henry Weston supernova Locked out but I feel alright And I don’t wanna go dancing Tonight I just wanna go somewhere Alright And you told me that I’m not Your type So I don’t wanna go dancing Tonight Now I’m staring at the ground At a flattened-out Thatcher’s Gold Story as old as time itself Work all week, Friday Raise hell at the ring of the bell Gloves on as lads are scrapping And girls are cheering them on Party of one, please, in a six-seater Watching the meter tick up It seemed like a good idea at the time Locked out on a Friday night Henry Weston supernova Locked out but I feel alright Locked out on a Friday night Henry Weston supernova Locked out but I feel alright Same again over and over Locked out on a Friday night Henry Weston supernova Locked out but I feel alright Locked out on a Friday night Henry Weston supernova Locked out but I feel alright And somebody took the piss right out of you