No

No growing old
No moving on
No happy feelings
No flaky heads
No jerking around
No fucking about
No Friday nights
No pissed up fights
No rank kebabs
No running about
No exercise
No happy dream
No ideal life
No stupid bitch
No fucking band
No shitty songs
No record deal
No more stitch up
No bloody nose
No one bloody knows
No perfect love
No fucking class
No body home
No telephone
No TV set
No fucking Internet
No traffic lights
No cars at night
No fucking lies
No fucking press
No fucking war
No more fucking death
What a fucking mess
I
Seem

To

Be
In
Tonight.

Chris Olley 2004

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