The Rumjacks - Wknd (Flash New Breeks) | Текст песни

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• The Rumjacks
• Wknd (Flash New Breeks)

A raging tribute to the two most sacred days in any working week.

Sixteen straight shifts, bust a gut for bugger-all
'Til the gaffer hits the bell & spits me outta hell
Firin' curses at me bouncin' out the door
Smoke em up, slam the pedal to the floor
Or the monkey on me back'll chip away until I crack
And i forget what all me words are really for
The lollipo girls with their t'ick Irish brogue
Are tellin me to take it slow,.. they should better know

Me old friend weekend, first one for weeks
I've a fresh eam o' dollars in me flash new breeks
Ill find a good woman & some self respect
And i'll be #%$*ed if I dont lose em all by monday

All the good folk are safe indoors
With their chicken & their wine, god bless em all the swine
All born undergentler stars
Ive a date with a dozen dirty jars
Like a tomcat on the tiles, ill go rovin out for miles
To where tney punish all them second hand guitars
Where them old sniffr dogs and the neckless feckin trogs
And them honeyskins'll never think to roam,.. Youll find me at home

As sunday bloody sunday comes & goes
With a jagged little start and a stutter in me heart
Still enshrouded in me saturday clothes
Its back into the bevvy's I suppose
Before the monday blues catch me dyin' in me shoes
Still dreaming of that kiss from a rose
And a voice in me heart & the sickness in me gut
Are all tellin me to take it slow, ..like they'll ever know.

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