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• Artiste: The Rumjacks
• Titre: WKND (Flash New Breeks)
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Sixteen straight shifts, bust a gut for bugger-all 'Til the gaffer hits the bell & spits me outta hell Firin' curses at me bouncin' out the door Smoke em up, slam the pedal to the floor Or the monkey on me back'll chip away until I crack And i forget what all me words are really for The lollipo girls with their t'ick Irish brogue Are tellin me to take it slow, they should better know Me old friend weekend, first one for weeks I've a fresh eam o' dollars in me flash new breeks Ill find a good woman & some self respect And I'll be #%$*ed if I dont lose em all by monday All the good folk are safe indoors With their chicken & their wine, god bless em all the swine All born undergentler stars Ive a date with a dozen dirty jars Like a tomcat on the tiles, ill go rovin out for miles To where tney punish all them second hand guitars Where them old sniffr dogs and the neckless feckin trogs And them honeyskins'll never think to roam, Youll find me at home As sunday bloody sunday comes & goes With a jagged little start and a stutter in me heart Still enshrouded in me saturday clothes Its back into the bevvy's I suppose Before the monday blues catch me dyin' in me shoes Still dreaming of that kiss from a rose And a voice in me heart & the sickness in me gut Are all tellin me to take it slow, like they'll ever know.