Live Tonight Songtext
von Sleaford Mods
Live Tonight Songtext
Sleaford Mods
Sleaford Mods
Sleaford Mods
Sleaford Sleaford Sleaford Mods
Sleaford Mods
Sleaford Mods
Sleaford Sleaford Sleaford Mods
Sleaford Mods
Sleaford Mods
Sleaford Sleaford Sleaford Mods
Live tonight
Live tonight
Kick you into the fucking ground I′m not moaning, man
I like the smell of mist on curbs near the beer garden at night
I like the taxis, cars, motorbikes, pedestrian walkways
Well, if the council want a no traffic zone that's sound mate, good with me
I got a latte, on I′m easy, undercover of the night
Telecaster, pirate wanker, high seas, arthritis? Yes, please!
I look like The Michelin man yammed up on antibiotics, nanny
Is that your auntie? What d'yer bring ya fucking auntie for?
What's he gonna do? You ain′t got permission to
Unless I give it to you, to open ya mouth
I want you to unplug the till from the canteen upstairs bring it down ′ere
Plug it in and start dishing fucking refunds out!
Live tonight
Live tonight
Live tonight, every night
Live tonight
Darcy de farcy back on the phones in two years
Real music, real chorus, no tears, no fears
I'll end mumbling away in a waiting room about the SAS, mate
Dirty neck barred from The Last Post, the pub next to the church
It′s alright, blokes 'n′ smokes, it's all god and an eye for an eye
Still some out there who believe in the lie of work ′til you die, of Sundays, apple pie
Death waits for every man!
It ain't like cakes from Birds, you don't get anything for your money back
Pound back on the bottle of pop, I tango and cashed it, yam
Cake tin, your job, my job, laughing
Mate, where we been? Upstairs in the back kid on slop mod
Daft crop, I don′t wear crap like that throwbacks alright
If ya doing something decent but I put ya CD on
It′s fucking Shakin' Stevens
Live tonight
Live tonight
Live tonight, every night
Live tonight
You know what? Fine
You know where the fucking shop is, don′t ya?
Do you want one? Fine!
You know where the fucking shop is, don't ya?
Do you want one? Fine!
You know where the fucking shop is, don′t ya?
Do you want one? Fine!
You know where the fucking shop is, don't ya?
Don′t ya?
Don't ya?
Don't ya?
Sleaford Mods
Sleaford Mods
Sleaford Sleaford Sleaford Mods
Sleaford Mods
Sleaford Mods
Sleaford Sleaford Sleaford Mods
Sleaford Mods
Sleaford Mods
Sleaford Sleaford Sleaford Mods
Live tonight
Live tonight
Kick you into the fucking ground I′m not moaning, man
I like the smell of mist on curbs near the beer garden at night
I like the taxis, cars, motorbikes, pedestrian walkways
Well, if the council want a no traffic zone that's sound mate, good with me
I got a latte, on I′m easy, undercover of the night
Telecaster, pirate wanker, high seas, arthritis? Yes, please!
I look like The Michelin man yammed up on antibiotics, nanny
Is that your auntie? What d'yer bring ya fucking auntie for?
What's he gonna do? You ain′t got permission to
Unless I give it to you, to open ya mouth
I want you to unplug the till from the canteen upstairs bring it down ′ere
Plug it in and start dishing fucking refunds out!
Live tonight
Live tonight
Live tonight, every night
Live tonight
Darcy de farcy back on the phones in two years
Real music, real chorus, no tears, no fears
I'll end mumbling away in a waiting room about the SAS, mate
Dirty neck barred from The Last Post, the pub next to the church
It′s alright, blokes 'n′ smokes, it's all god and an eye for an eye
Still some out there who believe in the lie of work ′til you die, of Sundays, apple pie
Death waits for every man!
It ain't like cakes from Birds, you don't get anything for your money back
Pound back on the bottle of pop, I tango and cashed it, yam
Cake tin, your job, my job, laughing
Mate, where we been? Upstairs in the back kid on slop mod
Daft crop, I don′t wear crap like that throwbacks alright
If ya doing something decent but I put ya CD on
It′s fucking Shakin' Stevens
Live tonight
Live tonight
Live tonight, every night
Live tonight
You know what? Fine
You know where the fucking shop is, don′t ya?
Do you want one? Fine!
You know where the fucking shop is, don't ya?
Do you want one? Fine!
You know where the fucking shop is, don′t ya?
Do you want one? Fine!
You know where the fucking shop is, don't ya?
Don′t ya?
Don't ya?
Don't ya?
Writer(s): Jason Williamson, Andrew Fearn Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com