Bristol

I went out last night
Drank six cans of Skol
Then I got my shoes on
And got the bus to Bristol

Jack is getting pissed down at The Bulldog
So I get a stomp on down there
Get myself a Carling and a skittle bomb
For him another bomb and a Red Square

Jack likes a fight most Friday nights
Unless he can slip in between two thighs
But I'm just here for the chisel and wine
So I don't get much, and I think that's why

Sweating
Sticky
I feel a little sicky
Retching
And dizzy
And not the least bit chilly

Pick up a pack of fresh taste from the corner shop
And shuffle on down to our favorite spot
Upper York Street where the music hot
Drinking Aperol Spritz and smoking pot

I see my mate Dan and he gives me a bump
Of the cheapest white filth he had ever slung
It goes well with my beer so I buy a clear
Little baggy off him for the usual sum

Sweating
Sticky
I feel a little sicky
Retching
And dizzy
And not the least bit chilly

On the dancefloor and its getting pretty wet
Thrown up in my mouth and I'm covered in sweat
I neck a bud, have a bump, touch my hair, feel my chest
Ask the DJ, change it up, ask again, she looks stressed

She Ignores me and leans hard in to techno
So I get out of there at just after four
I pull up google maps, 60 West Street
And get a jog on down there to see Simone

Sweating
Sticky
I feel a little sicky
Retching
And dizzy
And not the least bit chilly



Credits
Writer(s): Oliver Lamb
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com

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