With the red scrunchie for her birthday gift,
|
She scrapes her hair into a Croydon facelift,
|
Punch drunk love at sweet 16,
|
She thumbs a ride to Gretna Green,
|
Leaving something old for somewhere new,
|
To be with someone battered, black and blue,
|
She turns out her light with a song to sing,
|
Grabs her shoulder bag and her Argos ring,
|
And she says,
|
|
Without a penny, in my pocket,
|
I¡¯m out of luck in this kind of town,
|
But I¡¯ve got you right by my side,
|
So I won¡¯t let them drag me down,
|
|
He turned from Jack the lad into Jack the dad,
|
His heart was pure but the town was bad,
|
He had a broken heart from a broken home,
|
She heard his breaking voice through a broken phone,
|
He said ¡°For you girl I¡¯d walk a Swedish mile,
|
For a Glasgow kiss and a Chelsea smile¡±,
|
So he drove til it was morning light,
|
And the birds will sing him to sleep tonight,
|
And he says,
|
|
Without a penny, in my pocket,
|
I¡¯m out of luck in this kind of town,
|
But I¡¯ve got you right by my side,
|
|
-----------------
|
Out Of Luck
|
| The King Blues |
