| Smell of good earthy herbs makes my nerves shudder
|
| But where were you that cold December?
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| 'Cause we were in the Grasshopper, spending Guilders
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| Centraal Station, charged up like Scarface
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| Amsterdam ain’t a nice place off your face, we enter the race
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| Walk down, been there before, done that, no joy if you’re bored
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| Let’s go see Roy and get fucked up with the boys
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| Calvin, Schmalvin, I’m well within my limit
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| Oh, hang on a minute, these mushrooms just kicked in
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| Think I might be finished
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| The ball game heads for the worst
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| For what it’s worth, I might just fall off the edge of the earth
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| Brain’s kind of surfing now
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| We wandered down darkened pathways in a daze (Woy!)
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| «Do you want to buy any cocaine, boy?»
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| Am I paranoid? |
| «Yes, you’re paranoid!»
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| Charlie, darling, please save me
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| This is raving, take me home to my baby
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| Two bags of mushrooms, room’s mushed up and I need a cradle
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| In its own little way, my body was trying to say
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| That you’d better stop drinking brandy
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| In its own little way, my body was trying to say
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| That you’d better stop drinking brandy
|
| Now getting to the bar’s gonna be trouble
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| So the Marlons’ll have to be doubles
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| Then you drink doubles the same speed you drink singles
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| Ahh, beautiful, the barman holds aloft the crystal glass
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| And I’m having all that’s in the bubble in the bottom of the bottle
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| Then by 3:00 or 4:00, your head’s a bit mangled
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| Club’s full, you mingle, you dance the fandango
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| You sing all your favourite jingles
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| Far gone on one, call me Baron Von Marlon
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| One has a monocle and cigar, dickie-bow and long johns
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| My utility belt tells me it’s to the bar, Batman
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| Fat cans of that lager then it’s straight to the dancefloor
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| For much more fancy footwork, it’s adored by many, amour
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| Don’t bore me with your little sidestep technique
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| Get to the beat, loosen up, it’s The Streets
|
| In its own little way, my body was trying to say
|
| That you’d better stop drinking brandy
|
| In its own little way, my body was trying to say
|
| That you’d better stop drinking brandy
|
| We eat junk food, sat drunk on the Tube
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| Every time the train clunks, I feel like puking
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| Wonder whether that beautiful bird’ll ring?
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| Then it all goes hazy, these are the days we walking up out, in
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| Back to the road, talking, well, shouting actually
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| Loads more drunk, by Jove, my mind’s focused, balance fucked up
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| Rah, rah, rah, it’s all back to the Dogstar
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| And if it’s his round, I’m quite partial to another Marlon at the bar
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| Bad idea to start again late, should’ve given my brain a break
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| Take it easy, mate, you start to think you’re a state
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| You definitely are a state
|
| In its own little way, my body was trying to say
|
| That you’d better stop drinking brandy
|
| In its own little way, my body was trying to say
|
| That you’d better stop drinking brandy |