In nineteen hundred and eighty six
Not much for a chippie or swinging a pick
And you can't live on love, and on love alone
So you sail on the ocean, away cross the foam
To where you're a Paddy, you're a Biddy or a Mick
Good for nothing but stacking the brick
And your best mate's a spade and he carries a hod
Two work horses heavily shod
Oh I'm missing you
I'd give all for the price of the flight
and oh I'm missing you under Piccadilly's neon
And who did you murder, and are you a spy?
I'm just fond of a drink, helps me laugh, helps me cry
And I just drink Red Biddy for a permanent high
Now I laugh a lot less and I'll cry till I die
All you young people now here's some advice
Before crossing the ocean you'd better think twice
'Cause you can't live without love, without love alone
And the proof's around the West End, in the nobody zone
Now the summer is fine, but the winter's a fridge
Wrapped up in old cardboard under Charing Cross bridge
And I'll never go home now, because of the shame
Of a misfit's reflection in a shop window pane
