Tired feet trod rubbished streets
Dreams pile up on garbage heaps
Chain-smoked faces scream defeat
Poverty's grammar
Poundland's shut, bombed-out pubs
Feral kids on zombie drugs
Holidays in Wormwood Scrubs

I want to fly away from this town tonight
So high, so high
I don't want to die in this English town tonight
Cold English town

Zero hours sufferers
Stale depression haunts the bus
"Immigrants, they're not like us"
I heard someone say
Pushing hard against the crowd
Rush hour faces bring me down
Hieronymus Bosch underground
Prole horror surreal

I want to fly away from this town tonight
So high, so high
I don't want to die in this English town tonight
Cold English town

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

Death on credit every day
Walking dead on a living wagе
Accept your lot and don't complain
Drink yourself into an early gravе

I want to fly away from this town tonight
So high, so high
I don't want to die in this English town tonight
Cold English town
I want to fly away from this town tonight
So high, so high
I don't want to die in this English town tonight
Cold English town