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