Out of bed at eight am
Out my head by half past ten
Out with mates and dates and friends
That's what I do at weekends.
I can't talk and I can't walk
But I know where I'm going to go
I'm going watch my money go
At the Locarno.
When my feet go through the door
I know what my right arm is for
Buy a drink and pull a chair
Up to the edge of the dance floor.
Bouncers bouncing through the night
Trying to stop or start a fight
I sit and watch the flashing lights
Moving legs in footless tights.
I go out on Friday night
And I come home on Saturday morning
I go out on Friday night
And I come home on Saturday morning