Carlton Touts (Explicit) - Sleaford Mods

Written：Andrew Fearn/Jason Williamson

Why they got tellies in pubs

Keep us munched on second hand grub

Second hand tales I'm fired up

Two pints for a fiver drunk

Watch me am I a tortoise or a cuddly bear

When life isn't anything 'til you start drinkin' there

No truce just a selection of memories in bars you knew

I'm glad I was born when I was

I get to see the right once again look like nobs

Like what it's not hard is it you token jock

Freeze wrap nine for a quid in B-jabs the lot

Royal dutch lines

You fat bastard

You english climes

You fat bastards

You fat bastards

You fat bastards

You fat bastards

Carlton touts

The angel of the midlands has flown away

Probably south

You can't blame her

When the future is a flag pissed on

And a king sized bag of quavers

Carlton touts

The angel of the midlands has flown away

Probably south

You can't blame her

When the future is a flag pissed on

And a king sized bag of quavers

I stroke a roll up outside

Tryin' to put a memory to the face that has just said hi

Clouds are low like the general mood

Tempers cookin' up from the inside

We are the microwave food

I'm not in the mood

The labour party is a three quid tube of vending machine smarties

At the airport where check in could be check out

What the f**k is happ'nin'

Bring back the neolibs I'm sorry

Didn't f**kin' mean to pray for anarchy

They're all gaggin' for a bit o' fame

So course they're f**kin' off

You don't become a toff by going against the toff

Where's the anti toff

We ain't got none

Have you recognised the needle in your own arm cunt

I have but so what

You can't beat me up I'm not captain spock

You can't sell me stuff on the rotten rot

I've got a store card bastard

On this months top shop

Carlton touts

The angel of the midlands has flown away

Probably south

You can't blame her

When the future is a flag pissed on

And a king sized bag of quavers

Carlton touts

The angel of the midlands has flown away

Probably south

You can't blame her

When the future is a flag pissed on

And a king sized bag of quavers

Carlton touts

Carlton touts

Carlton touts

Carlton touts