Bread and the Man - Postcard '88
Newspaper, and my coffee cupI read that the money market's on the up & up
Hold your breath and turn to page 10
There's a terrorist bomb in the barracks again
There's a multiple ripe on a housing estate
With photos and all
There's a semi nude girl with long hair low says
If you sell my body then I'll sell my soul
I can't stand it
I've got to get away
Living with a Polish girlfriend
She don't understand a word I say
I work, 9 till 5 days a week with bank holidays off
And I spend my time
Thumbing through the classifieds
Trying to improve on my smoker's cough
I got a cheque book, a credit card, a £50 guarantee
But I ain't got any money
And I'm getting grief, my overdraft's too large
I'm due in the magistrates for drunk in charge
Have a nice day, when it's time to press on
Don't count on a pension when the money has gone
Have you heard enough?
Have you paid enough?
Have a nice day and your life disappears
What's the balance on the tally of your count through the years
Did you laugh or sing?
Did you do anything?
Have a nice day and your days are done
Your woman gone left you because you ain't no fun
Now she's left your home
She's left your home
And I don't mind living alone but it's the neighbours that get my goat
Keep leaving me their suicide notes
And I don't mind living alone but it's the neighbours that get my goat
Keep leaving me their suicide notes
Written by:
Luis Sanchez
Publisher:
Lyrics © O/B/O DistroKid
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