Artist: The Pogues
Song: transmetropolitan
In the rosy parks of England we'll sit and have a drink
Of V P wine and cider 'till we can hardly think
And we'll go where spirits take us to Heaven or to Hell
And kick up bloody murder in the town we love so well
Going transmetropolitan, yip-ay-aye
From the dear old streets of Kings Cross to the doors of the I C A
Going transmetropolitan, yip-ay-aye
We'll drink the rat's piss, kick the shite
And I'm not going home tonight, yip-ay-aye, yip-ay-aye
From Brixton's lovely boulevards to Hammer Smith's sightly shores
We'll scare the Camden Palace poofs and worry all the whores
There's lechers up in Whitehall and queers in the G L C
And when we've done those bastards in we'll storm the BBC
Going transmetropolitan, yip-ay-aye
From Surrey Docks to Somers Town with a K M R I A
Going transmetropolitan, yip-ay-aye
We'll drink the rat's piss, kick the shite
And I'm not going home tonight, yip-ay-aye, yip-ay-aye
From five-bob bet in William Hills to a Soho sex-shop dream
From a fried egg in Valtaro's to a Tottenham Court Road ice cream
We'll spew and lurch, get nicked and fixed on the way we'll kill and maim
When you haven't got a penny, boys it's all the bloody same
Going transmetropolitan, yip-ay-aye
From Pentonville Road on a sunset eve to the beauty that's Mill Lane
Going transmetropolitan, yip-ay-aye
We'll drink the rat's piss, kick the shite
And I'm not going home tonight, yip-ay-aye, yip-ay-aye
This town has done us dirty, this town has bled us dry
We've been here for a long time and we'll be here 'til we die
So we'll finish off the leavings of blood and glue and beer
And burn this bloody city down in the summer of the year
Going transmetropolitan, yip-ay-aye
From Arlington House with a two bob bit to the Scottish shores today
Going transmetropolitan
We?ll drink the rat?s piss, kick the shite
And I?m not going home tonight, yip-ay-aye, yip-ay-aye, yip-ay-aye
