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From the high rise tower blocks |
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Where kids sit outside corner shops. |
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They're dressed to kill in stilettos |
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While they eat their Cornetto's. |
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And while I'm gone please save the youth, |
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Shout it out, don't hide the truth. |
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'Cause Thatcher's kids and Blair's teenagers, |
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They see themselves as total strangers. |
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So I sit up here all alone |
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'Cause I'd rather be on my own |
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Then running 'round with them idiots down there. |
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So goodbye Piccadilly, |
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And farewell Leicester Square. |
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We've shared some special times, |
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Now I'm getting out of here. |
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Did you live out all your lifelong dreams |
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With custard creams by the coffee machines? |
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Or were there thoughts of "I don't want to be here" |
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Made worse by the weekends beer? |
