Everyone seems to know the score, He's out ‘til half past four He drank lots, he drank more, and Gazza's gonna throw it all up, gonna blow it all up Now he's out of the Cup ‘Cos Glenn remembered
Three pints down his shirt, plastic tits still gleaming, tried to force a burp after a kebab evening
So many jokes, so many tears, but all those fags and beers wear you down, through the years but I still see that tackle on Charles all those flash poncy cars Gazza playing the flute and Sheryl crying
