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I don't want to go back anymore.I don't wanna go to work in the rain.No more toast grilled on the heater.No more of that A&R girl.And having to meet her.My person is in race everywhere. [embraced?]You Pep!And I stick my parker pen under my earBeneath my own carefully scruffed hair.What I wearHave to check out of a boutique lairHang onHang on, [live in St. Anne's with me.]Into the room of the bass player.Why would you go up stairs?You Pep!Don't think he's going to get in slippyNorth of Hamptonshire. I believe there's a new drug out.[It's called speed I] wrote a song about itConceptually a la Bowie.But it's been lost in the vaults of the record companyBy our managerSo instead our new 45 is 'Girlies'[His eyes are brown.]Yours, brattingly.Everyone says "please"Anyway it's a race in lifeWait to say it in LancashireYou Pep!You had the best summerAnd now it's wearing off.No more excusesFor your traitorism.