streeky

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it was one of those nights

we went out, invincible

with nothing to lose

except, it would seem, our wallets and shoes

and our fingers

they smell halfway between bacon and innertube

God, what did we do?

nobody knew

we were embarrassed to ask

incase we’d put wheels on a pig

at the tour de france

or put johnnies on our hands

and sucker punched a sow

or did we all have sandwiches

at some mechanic’s house?

we’re a little stumped

until it all comes flooding back

tackling that gang of butcher gimps

armed with crackling and hams and

very lean mince

and coming off worse, a gimp’s not averse

it would seem to thirty five quid

and some second hand Converse

oh it was one of those nights, alright

it was one of those nights

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