| We are gonna get to the sunshine, we are
|
| We are gonna get to the sunshine, we are
|
| I just woke up somewhere on the north side
|
| On a couch I don’t recognise, man, I really wish I had foresight
|
| I had so many glasses last night, I’ve still got four eyes
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| And it’s like the fourth time in half a fortnight
|
| I really need to sort my shit out
|
| Thoughts I’m suppressing of hurt are suppressing my work
|
| Yep, depression’s the worst
|
| Need to focus on what’s at stake, should be fearful
|
| If I don’t nail this music shit then my career’s through
|
| I’m back selling jeans, parents giving me earfuls
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| «Get a real job like all of your peers do
|
| They’re probably watching you fail through the rear-view
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| Of their B-M-Dub, wearing a cashmere suit
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| We know you don’t really give a fuck what other kids do
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| But you’re a man now and those other kids grew, you didn’t»
|
| (Thanks, Mum) Finish my monologue
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| Go downstairs, hit the loo for after grog and bog
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| Raid the fridge, Rekorderlig is my hair of the dog
|
| Then hit the streets, see my brother Tom Scott
|
| And it’s all love
|
| We are gonna get to the sunshine, we are
|
| (Rem! What the fuck are you doin'?)
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| We are gonna get to the sunshine, we are
|
| (You know the sunshine never comes soon enough
|
| Then we don’t have to)
|
| I bought this shit, knowing damn well I can’t afford the shit
|
| Snorted all of it and ordered more of it
|
| I’m poor as shit now, I’m talking shit now
|
| How I’m gonna sort this shit out
|
| One of these days, like I’m on some Mormon shit
|
| But when you always on tour and shit
|
| All that shit doesn’t really stick, you can always get more of it
|
| Before you even thought of it, somebody’s sorted it out now
|
| And pouring it out and it’s pure as shit
|
| Shit was lit 'til the sun hit the morning with the light
|
| Like a vampire and now I’m falling with the moon
|
| Feeling like a huge, living piece of walking shit
|
| Even blew the twenty that I was using to snort the shit
|
| What’s the point? |
| What’s it for? |
| What’s it all about?
|
| Is there nothing more to this life but a walk to the grave?
|
| Another day, nothing changed
|
| But the store selling coffee on my street
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| Where the pub was before
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| I was walking past there, heading for the court to
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| Chuck a ball in the hoop, just for the sport
|
| Stuck up in the skin I wore from the night before
|
| Pawned all of my endorphins for pure euphoria
|
| And reality just kicked in
|
| Feeling like the piece of shit that I just slipped in
|
| But just in time, heard somebody called, «Bruv!»
|
| Looked up, what the fuck? |
| Sure enough, it’s all love
|
| We are gonna get to the sunshine, we are
|
| We are gonna get to the sunshine, we are |