| From the palace of Versailles
|
| To the streets of Peckham Rye
|
| You crave the dizziest of heights
|
| But we’re caught out at the lights
|
| The streets been talkin'
|
| By now you should have known
|
| That all that glitters is not gold
|
| And there are times we must say no
|
| Our fathers warned us so
|
| The streets been talkin'
|
| Me and my bae’s
|
| Going out tonight
|
| I’m too tired
|
| For another fight
|
| I’ve got no fight left
|
| I could write a good-time song
|
| That says how happy I’ve become
|
| Now I use my knife and fork
|
| And never forget to wash up
|
| The streets been talkin'
|
| But it would not be the truth
|
| Just like your DTPM tattoo
|
| Don’t you know how dumb you look?
|
| Leave those days behind you
|
| The streets been talkin'
|
| Me and my bae’s
|
| Going out tonight
|
| I’m too tired
|
| For another fight
|
| I’ve got no fight left
|
| I’m trying to kick a habit
|
| I’m trying to kick a habit
|
| I’m trying to kick a habit
|
| I’m trying to kick a habit
|
| Oh Xanthi, can’t you see
|
| What these years have done to me?
|
| It’s bad
|
| This time words will not explain
|
| Johnny Saint James caught the last plane
|
| And I’m tired
|
| I’m too tired for a fight
|
| From the palace of Versailles
|
| To the streets of Peckham Rye
|
| You crave the dizziest of heights
|
| But we’re still caught out at the lights
|
| The streets been talkin'
|
| With a game of «let's pretend»
|
| Hiding bottles in the bin
|
| Life can seem a kind of blue
|
| When you’re living in the red
|
| The streets been talkin'
|
| And me and my bae’s
|
| Going out tonight
|
| I’m too tired
|
| For another fight
|
| I’ve got no fight left
|
| I’m trying to kick a habit
|
| I’m trying to kick a habit
|
| I’m trying to kick a habit
|
| I’m trying to kick a habit
|
| Oh Xanthi, can’t you see
|
| What these years have done to me?
|
| It’s bad
|
| This time words will not explain
|
| Johnny Saint James caught the last plane
|
| And I’m tired
|
| I’m too tired for a fight |