Stations of the Cross - Sports Team

I’m such a delicate child, you know

I always said my prayers because I didn’t want to die

If it’s all the same, at least that’s what they say

They’re clinging on Sunday, they know it’s not a game

Well we’re happy in the suburbs, just sucking on our spoons

The people here are emptier than the surface of the moon

So ground control to major tom now what a boy to do

Know everything is changing, but nothing ever changes

Make a home in a hunkering ditch and wait for all the clowns, to blow us all to

bits

Oh shit, well now look what you did

Everything is glowing, everything is glowing

We’ll march in pairs, they’re rolling up their sleeves

Someone threatened someone else well someone has to bleed

It’s all the same, just arrogance and greed

So hold onto your hatches, back down the hatches

Weekends follow weekends like the stations of the cross

And it’s not that you’re unhappy, you’re just happy on and off

And it’s nothing like the stories, that they taught you, growing up

Dye your hair, and whiten up your teeth

No, no one really cared for what was really underneath

Oh it’s all the same, just sycophants and creeps and they’re not really happy,

they’re not really happy

Oh, where did you go

Did you get sick of fetching the stick

The others were cautioned, but you’re far too quick

Record the bus at Peter and 18 roll back harrow road back past the greats to

wilson green

And everyone was laughing, and picking at the seats

The took all their best stories through and all grilled up the seats

Go home, and cower in a ditch and wait for all the predators to blow us all to

bits

Blue screens, turn in all the cash

No it’s not really killing it’s just pointing at a map

Weekends follow weekends like the stations of the cross

And it’s not that you’re unhappy, you’re just happy on and off

And it’s nothing like the stories, that they taught you, growing up

So live with your parents for a while

Everyone is growing so nicely, really coming along

And I hope that when thirty’s finally here, you can sit in your bedroom,

shouting your neighbours

Raise a gap with the windows and the gardens with flowers You can count on your

fingers

Oh there’s no love in this town anymore

But if you want to find love you can always go to london