Thank fuck it's Friday
We're not going home
‘Til we're singing “My Way” or “Come on Eileen” to our family down the phone
Long live the local
Wherever you roam
Times are hard for the hopeful
So long live the local
As a week of desperation
Lays thick upon the air
I watch a funeral congregation drown their sorrow in despair
The landlord pours me another pint
As the band murder “Sweet Caroline” again
I see a sea of generations and characters collide
Please leave the segregation and the class divide outside
For within these walls the people, both rich and poor are equal, my dear friends
Illuminated by the fruit machine, beneath an England flag
I watch ‘Dodgy Dave' sell stolen steak out of a Tesco bag
To the cabbies who abuse ya, if you dare order an Uber for a ching
And the poor barmaids only seventeen, she's paid minimum wage
For pouring pints and serving therapy, to loners twice her age
While the battered ‘all-the-timers' and the shattered ‘9-to-5ers' form a choir and sing...
Thank fuck it's Friday
We're not going home
‘Til we're singing “My Way” or “Come on Eileen” to our family down the phone
Long live the local
Wherever you roam
Times are hard for the hopeful
So long live the local
Instrumental
Outside the vicar drinks with builders, ex-hooligans and ravers
I see the olds girls from the bingo, smoking with the undertakers
While a hen-do on the breezers, and the ‘get the badge in' geezers, share a blunt
There's shattered glass beneath a sign, that reads ‘Please respect the neighbours'
When a rollock in a Rolex on the racket has a straightener
He thinks he's Tyson Fury
But he's knocked out prematurely
What a cunt
This is a home away, from home for some
Leave your troubles at the door
Where the roughest of the scum become the richest of the poor
We're singing thank fuck it's Friday
We're not going home
‘Til we're singing “My Way” or “Come on Eileen” to our family down the phone
Long live the local
Wherever you roam
Times are hard for the hopeful
So long live the local
La la la la la la la la la la la la la la la la la la la la la long live the local
La la la la la la la la la la la la la la la la la la la la la long live the local
From every wake, to every wedding, every “Happy Birthday” sung
Every lock-in with the landlord, once the last order bells rung
My first bump at the urinal, my first heartbreaking cup final spent in tears
From the cradle, to the grave
From your first drink, to your last
I've watched love and life and loss
Dreamt of the future, mourned the past
From my sad days, to my bad days
To my best I've ever had days
I was here
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