Sleaford Mods - Carlton Touts lyrics

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Sleaford Mods - Carlton Touts lyrics

[Verse 1] Why they got tellies in pubs? Keep us munched on second-hand grub Second-hand tales, I'm fired up Two pints for a fiver, crook What's me: am I a tortoise or a cuddly bear? When life isn't anything 'til you start drinkin' there No truths, just a selection of memories in bars you knew I'm glad I was born when I was I get to see the right once again look like knobs Like what? It's not hard is it, you token chop Freeze-wrapped, nine for a quid in Bejams, the lot Royal Dutch lines You fat ba*tard You English crimes You fat ba*tards You fat ba*tards You fat ba*tards You fat ba*tards [Chorus] Carlton touts The angel of the midlands has flown away Probably south You can't blame her When the future is a flag pissed on And a king-sized bag of quavers Carlton touts The angel of the midlands has flown away Probably south You can't blame her When the future is a flag pissed on And a king-sized bag of quavers [Verse 2] I stroke a roll-up outside Tryin' to put a memory to the face that has just said "hi" Clouds are low, like the general mood Tempers cookin' up from the inside We are the microwaved food And I'm not in the mood The Labour Party is a three-quid tube of vending machine smarties At the airport, where check-in could be check-out What the f** is happ'nin'? Bring back the neolibs, I'm sorry I didn't f**in' mean to pray for anarchy They're all gaggin' for a bit o' fame So of course they're f**in' off You don't become a toff by going against the toff Where's the anti-toff? We ain't got none Have you recognised the needle in your own arm, c*nt? I have, but so what? You can't beam me up, I'm not Captain Spock You can't sell me stuff on the rotten rock I've got a store-card, ba*tard I'm this months Top Shop [Chorus] Carlton touts The angel of the midlands has flown away Probably south You can't blame her When the future is a flag pissed on And a king-sized bag of quavers Carlton touts The angel of the midlands has flown away Probably south You can't blame her When the future is a flag pissed on And a king-sized bag of quavers Carlton touts Carlton touts Carlton touts Carlton touts