stewe

Tell me no lies, I'll accept no crap,
Who the hell are you looking at?
Don't talk to me, just leave me alone
And don't invade my telephone

Why are you always pestering me?
Why can't you just leave me be?
Don't you come calling round here,
I want you to disappear

Don't write to me coz I won't reply
And please don't call to ask me why
You had a warning now I mean it this time
You went too far and stepped over the line

I never want to see your face,
K eep away coz you're in disgrace
So don't you come calling round here
I want you to disappear

I won't change my mind and I'll never forget
I'll get revenge and have no regrets
So don't come knocking on my door,
Coz if you do you'll be on the floor

I hope we never see you again,
That's what you get for causing so much pain
So don't you come calling round here
I want you to disappear

She likes life's finer things, Gucci watches, diamond rings
 Members only clubs for the chosen few
 Personally I'd prefer to be well liked and well happy
 But that's just me, that's just the way I am

  Coz she's so
So immaterial, immaterial
  She's an Immaterial Girl
In a material world

 I know she's looking down on me,
 And she can't stand what she sees
 Maybe it's because I refuse to follow fashion
 You know she's looking down on you,
 The way you talk and the things you do
 It's so pathetic, she'll never change her ways

 You try too hard but you can't see
 You're a million miles away from where you wanna be
 You'll never impress me no matter what you do
 I sure hope I never turn out like you 





 


He's got money in the bank, two cars on the drive
 Three smashing kids and a beautiful wife
 He's got an en suite and a flash TV
 A fully fitted kitchen and a DVD

 He takes a lot of money but he always makes a loss
 He knows the tax man's watching but he doesn't give a toss
 He's got his own firm in more ways than one
 But he's a different geezer when Saturday comes

  I just can't help it
All I wanna do is fight
  And Saturday afternoon's gonna be alright

 His wife makes his dinner, Armani makes his jeans
 But Italian names can't hide the fact that he ain't what he seems
 He's a bit lively when he wants to be
 But he'll still give up his seat for an OAP

 He likes a bit of toot to compliment his beer
 He's always got an audience to ask about his gear
 His home's a million miles away now he's with his crew
 Fired up, ready to ruck he knows just what to do

 He's got an email address and his own website
 It's the only way to organise a modern street fight
 The police have got a picture he don't want his mum to see
 But she'll see it tonight on the BBC

 It went off in the boozer, it went off in the street
 It went off in the car park and it went off in the seats
 His jacket's all ripped but he couldn't give a fuck
 It's Saturdays Glory and he loves a ruck