|
The x in x-mas is a substitute crucifix for Christ
|
No Christmas for John Quays
|
|
The powders reach
|
And the powders teach
|
And when you find they can't reach
|
There is no Christmas for junky
|
|
He thinks he is
|
More interesting
|
Than the world
|
But buying cigs
|
Puts him in a whirl
|
|
A packet of three-five fives
|
555
|
A packet of those over there
|
And 20 special offer cigars
|
|
Found talking to the cigarette machine
|
Into nicotinic acid
|
Good king Wenceslaus, he looked out
|
Silly bugger, he fell out
|
|
He spits in the sky
|
It falls in his eye
|
Then he gets to sit in
|
Talking to his kitten
|
|
And talking about Frankie Lymon
|
|
Tell me why is it so?
|
Tell me why is it so?
|
|
Out of his face with The Idle Race
|
Out of the room with his tune
|
|
Although the skins are thin
|
He knows its up to him
|
To go out or stay in
|
|
I'll stay in
|
I'll stay in
|
|
You
|
Me
|
X-Mas
|
X-Mas
|
|
There is no Christmas for junkies
|
No girls
|
No curls
|
Just the traffic passing by
|
Bye bye bye bye bye bye bye bye
|
1,2,3,4
|
|
No X-mas for John Quays
|
|
|
|
-----------------
|
NO X-MAS FOR JOHN QUAYS
|
| The Fall |
