The temptation is all too great,
To know it’s gone and it’s all too late,
I tried and I tried and but I never applied,
To any of the Morals that I wish I had.

You wait fifty one weeks,
Through all of your hides and all of your seeks,
When the time finally arrives,
It dawns on me that your attention derives,
From the girlfriend that you left at home,
Sitting in the living room all alone.

You hate the suntan,
And you can’t stand to be around a short sleeve man,
And the gaggles of girls who are singing too loud,
Because they do my head in.

You hate the tattoos and you can’t handle the skinheads,
The ones who cannot handle their booze,
Their making you scared to be proud,
Why’s that not allowed.

If you bide your time and you stand there and you wait in line,
It won’t be long before her sarong is lying on your bedroom floor,
But what about your girlfriend that you left at home,
Sitting in her living room all alone.

You hate the suntan,
And you can’t stand to be around a short sleeve man,
And the groups of girls who are singing dead loud,
Because they do my head in.

You hate the tattoos and you can’t handle the skinheads,
The ones who cannot handle their booze,
Their making you scared to be proud.

From the girlfriend that you left at home,
Sitting in her living room all alone,

You hate the suntan,
And you can’t stand to be around a short sleeve man,
And the gaggle of girls who are singing too loud,
Because they do my head in.

You hate the tattoos and you can’t handle the skinheads,
The ones who cannot handle their booze,
And their making you scared to be proud,
Why is that not allowed?

felipe@hotmail.co.uk