got off the plane and went straight down to baker’s street to meet this girl I met on myspace in 2003 she was an artsy fartsy film student and internet blogger so i figured it’d be best to go pay her a visit and nog her
got up to her house around 7 or 8 and i said to the cabby, “yo mate, i’ll smell ya later” but when i walked into the door and saw all the velour i knew it was the same liverpool slut from before
hey hey don’t listen to what they say
hey hey don’t listen to what they say they may seem hip and captivating but liverpool sluts are always faking
as i ran out the door and headed for the shore i remembered what me mum had taught me before that if you’re gonna go play the tubesteak fandango best not with a liverpool slut with extensive gangrow
hey hey don’t listen to what they say
hey hey don’t listen to what they say they may seem hip and captivating but liverpool sluts are always faking
i said what do you want from me? when the liverpool slut’s around?