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Verse 1
Seven fat Englishmen sit around you on bar stools
Blood red faces unaware that they're dying fast,
And as this blood squeezes through their blocked arteries
These farming men, drinking gin, pickling their livers
It's normal here

And I reach into this circle
To fetch you out
And I reach into this circle to fetch you out of this sticky mess of gin and
Blood and soil but you can't leave,
Gin and blood and soil but you can't leave.
And as the spice girls prostitute girl power in the background
On tinny speakers you smile and desperation seeps through your teeth
As you laugh with them
Agree with them, make business with them
Cos this is you're life

Verse 1
I have nowhere to take you and you have nowhere to go an I think it's just too

Painful for you to think there's any better

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