Saturday's kids

Saturday’s boys live life with insults,
Drink lots of beer and wait for half time results,
Afternoon tea in the light-a-bite – chat up the girls – they dig it!

Saturday’s girls work in Tesco’s and Woolworths,
Wear cheap perfume ’cause its all they can afford,
Go to discos they drink Babycham – talk to Jan – in bingo accents.

Saturdays kids play one arm bandits,
they never win but that’s not the point is it,
Dip in silver paper when their pints go flat,
How about that – far out!

Their mums and dads smoke Capstan non filters,
Wallpaper lives ’cause they all die of cancer,
What goes on – what goes wrong.

Save up their money for a holiday,
To Selsey Bill or Bracklesham Bay,
Think about the future – when they’ll settle down,
Marry the girl next door – with one on the way.

These are the real creatures that time has forgot,
Not given a thought – its the system –
Hate the system – what’s the system?

Saturdays kids live in council houses,
Wear v-necked shirts and baggy trousers,
Drive Cortinas fur trimmed dash boards,
Stains on the seats – in the back of course!

© Paul Weller

2 tanker om “Saturday's kids”

  1. “A whole street’s belief in Sunday’s roast beef
    gets dashed against the Co-op
    To either cut down on beer or the kids new gear
    It’s a big decision in a town called malice”

    – Weller

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