Come on, let's have it you miserable prick
I will do what I want, I will drink 'til I'm sick
To my stomach, I'm sick of the same boring songs
I am sick of these pavements I find myself on
Great Britain, I hate you, I will say that with pride
It's my right to be violent when you fed me lies
I'm a rotter, a menace when I want to be
And I've worked for that right because nothing comes free
I have slaved all my life in a dull nine to five
I just rinse and repeat while I'm barely alive
Great Britain, I loathe you with murderous glee
I will do to this country what you've done to me
Destroy
I want to tear apart these buildings
From these cinder blocks they stand
Leave this town in dust and rubble
Make some trouble with my hands
I won't lie, I'm fucking wasted
But I wasted all my youth
And I stay so damn complacent, getting wasted is my truth
So my style of self-expression is a fist into the gut
It's throwing up upon these pavements
Shut your fucking mouth, you slut
Banished angel, I am Lucifer, my reign like Genghis Khan
Soon you will all know my name, I am the storm after the calm
I'm the victim of the victimless, the pill that makes you sick
I am chaos incarnate
Let's fucking have it then, you prick!
Now the rules of the street fight are simple
It's pretty much anything goes
Keep in the street, pretty firm on your feet
It pays to be sweet on your toes
And fools, they have fallen for clumsy mistakes
Late to react, cop the fist to the face
Now the rules at the street fight are simple
Break that little prick's nose
Throw a punch, he swallow it, follow it
Grab the collar, quick hollow tip like karate kick
Martial art master, spark a bitch
Park a fist on the landing strip
Carnage, it finds the cartilage
Karma served like a carbonated cola on a crucifix
Kill, Vincent wanna kill, who blood gets spilled
Double tap, rude boy, kill or be killed
Do it for the fun, blood, do it for the thrill
Blue lights, boy, run, blue lights, boy, chill
So it goes in the absence of the light
The devils sow a seed in idle minds
Vincent was shaken, run from the law
Hide from the bacon, crouch on the floor
The call to war made him hate the world, the world
Spits on him, rapes him, hits him, kicks him
When he's down and that shapes him
He hears the sound of a copper, hot up on his tail proper
Vincent off his rocker
Bothered by the lie that Britain sold him, what a shocker
Where greedy eat the poor, a holy war, the chosen prosper
But some are never chosen, they stay frozen in the locker
Destined to survive in nine to five and watch the clock, but
Don't think about reality, my little happy shopper
A brand-new show on Netflix to distract you from the horror
And swallow all your morals for a retweet or a follow
And shadow-ban the problem, man, a soul sold for a dollar
And keep the fight amongst yourself, don't think about the squalor
The systems that impose it, or the rules that we all honour
And fuck it, Vincent cooked to boiling point, he's cannon fodder
So what's the use in running, he's already in the locker?
He's careless with his actions now, a clumsy motherfucker
He turned to face his fate
'Cause fate's a bitch and none will stop her
Richard was an officer who stood at six foot three
Was his first day back at work after a time of absent leave
Working London on the night shift, what he didn't think he'd see
Was a boy with a guitar, bruised and battered on his knees
But Richard lived in caution now, tormented by his past
Not so quick to find a trigger, "Not so fast"
But Richard was a righteous man who lived inside the law
So he leapt upon poor Vincent and he cuffed him to the floor
