Black Monday

Well gather your gods Waiting room stench, the loos smell nice Faces of Death rip the tickets Fifty potential health problems cover the walls I could have them all, who cares Death rays burn the air conditioning And smash out the warnings that everyone needs to hear This is the end of your cool black Monday Deadly sixty, welcome back at 8 I can't believe the rich still exist Let alone fucking rule the country, mate Dogwaste car showrooms, look fucking stupid Shiny inventions, unobtainable for the real Obtainable for the tits Big car, small life That's just the way it is Black Monday Black Monday Black Monday Black Monday for the Tory Well gather your gods We took back the streets from the potholes And the last remaining internet cafes on the boulevards We overturn world order - 10,000 strong It's not enough anymore just to have a fucking singalong So I started hating the coppers Fucking showstoppers Low-flying helicopters Spoil season five, Nip/Tuck Keith Weetabix, tastes like crab sticks Wake up, what's that cunt doing outside near my fucking my car lot? Echo beach, glitter Eighties segregation, so shit Financial ladder, false tit party, Blackadder What has it come to when only the monsters point the finger I'm not a burger, I'm not a fucking zinger Needles protect the neon logos from pigeon shit And the blue sky's wasted, it's fucking sick of it Black Monday Black Monday Black Monday Black Monday for the Tory Black Monday Black Monday Black Monday Black Monday for the Tory