I've got a funny feeling in my stomach
But that don't matter cause me and you are always into something
Whether it be riding home drenched in the freezing cold
Or entering town where the postboxes now say sold
(Ooh, Aah, Ooh, Aah)
Stop stop stop stop stop I won't stop it
Hand me your car keys I'll try and unlock it
Sitting in the backseat with that worn out interior
Blatantly looked down on by all our superiors
Ed Hardy jeans, with broken dreams stitched in between the seams
That Boy in a bivvy looks about 13 trying to sell sticks claimed to be weed
Laugh out loud for you and your wannabe crew
In your bodywarmer Nike and bad attitude
I'm not being rude but you've already got babies with two different ladies
How do you want to be viewed?
And while you're out getting screwed, stewed and tattooed she's on her own
Trying to get your baby some food
Ed Hardy jeans, with broken dreams stitched in between the seams
That Boy in a bivvy looks about 13 trying to sell sticks claimed to be weed
Live in sportswear but they never go running
Staying in
Always burning watching porn
Brain numbing
Lack of motherly loving from a young age so they can say they never got nothing from anyone
Cliché!
(I'm sitting on the curb while my mates rolling a fag, I'm fucking hurting, so bored)
Ed Hardy jeans, with broken dreams stitched in between the seams
That Boy in a bivvy looks about 13 trying to sell sticks claimed to be weed
(I've got enough money in my pocket, and you ain't, yeah)
