Friday Night in Loughborough

You walked all the way from the Griffen to the Moon & Bell
Threw up outside the Curzon & that’s where you fell
And that’s how you ripped your tights
But you made it back on your feet all right
With the girl from Baker’s Oven holding back your hair
The girl from Baker’s Oven holding back your hair
The Garton had a 3 for 1 on beer and I was gone
I picked a fight I couldn’t finish with a Marine from the village
He won
And sometime later, on his birthday
He made the pages of the Leicester Mercury
«Get it out for the lads
Get it up for the British
Get it off for the town
Let it down for the village»
LA LA LA LA LA LA LA (LA LA LA LA LA LA LA)
LA LA LA LA LA LA LA (LA LA LA LA LA LA LA)
LA LA LA LA LA LA, LA LA LA LA LA LA LA
Well, we ended up in Echoes, making lips at the floor
We’d run out of conversation 2 Friday nights before
The room was spinning, I wasn’t dancing
The beat was much too old for dancing
My feet followed my neck and found the door
Oh, I wish I didn’t have to hang out here anymore
LA LA LA LA LA LA LA (LA LA LA LA LA LA LA)
LA LA LA LA LA LA LA (LA LA LA LA LA LA LA)
LA LA LA LA LA LA, LA LA LA LA LA LA LA
Well, you got a lift back home to Walton on the Wolds
With a head like the Waltzers, bruises and ashtray clothes
And in the evening when you wake up
You will slap make up on the make up
That you slapped on the skin the night before
That you slapped on the skin the night before
LA LA LA LA LA LA LA (LA LA LA LA LA LA LA)
LA LA LA LA LA LA LA (LA LA LA LA LA LA LA)
LA LA LA LA LA LA, LA LA LA LA LA LA LA