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After 3 long painful hours
We finally step off the train
It donât look like in the brochure
Itâs all kind of brown and grey
Helter skelterâs covered up
Lights out at the fairground
And if the you walk along the pier
Youâll see why they burnt it down
Lets wish upon these stones
And we can throw them out to sea
I know it all looks kind of hopeless
But I believe theyâll come back to me
And every wave that crashes down
Is a promise Iâm making you
Letâs take over some old pub
We can make this town brand new
Could have gone for sun and sand
Seen the sights of new Japan
Maybe Thailand or Jamaica
Been enlightened in Malaysia
But I decided weâre coming here
Itâs a washout but weâre gonna persevere
In the town that time forgot
Weâre gonna have fun whether you like it or not
Weâre going away on holiday
So pack your bags
Away the lads
And leave your dignity behind
For the broken lights on the promenade
And whatâs left of the skyline
In the pub heâs red like lobster
Knocks them back he wonât be outdone
Union Jack swimming shorts
In case we donât know where heâs from
Goliwog in the shop front window
By the flashing vacancies sign
No wonder when the world turned
It left this town behind
Two lovers in a chip shop doorway
Huddled up âcos itâs howling down
Falling in and out of love tonight
But right now theyâre stood on common ground
Drunk Romeo and Angry Julie
Cuddly shark and a takeaway
Battered painting
See it fading
From the gloden glory days
Whoâs gonna choose dirt and rain
When you could just fly to Spain
Wou can get there pretty cheap
Stay for about âalf a week
But not us we like it here
Greasy food and pricey beer
Weâre the only ones remaining
We find it all entertaining
Just wake me up when it stops raining
Weâre going away on holiday
So pack your bags
Away the lads
And leave your dignity behind
For the broken lights on the promenade
And whatâs left of the skyline
He straightens up his bowtie in the mirror
Checks that his teeth are squeaky clean
For 35 years heâs performed
His proudly politically incorrect routine
Bye the time the punchline arrives at climax
The silence is deafening
He realises heâs the punchline
As the cold truth dawns on him
The spotlight fades out and the smoke disappears
And he shines he eyes right to the back of the hall
Aghast he screams as he falls to his knees and he sees
Ainât no audience after all
Just swarms of locusts
Rats and roaches
No applause no bunch of roses
Weâve moved on now heâs dying
Cos we donât want to hear your racist jokes
Or your greased lightening
Weâre going away on holiday
So pack your bags
Away the lads
And leave your dignity behind
For the broken lights on the promenade
And whatâs left of the skyline
Weâre going away on holiday
And we know we wonât have to queue
Because thereâs nobody around
The fortune tellers saw their crystal ball
And all moved out of town
- Album:
- Off With Their Heads
- Save The World, Get The Girl
- Under The Fog
- Miscellaneous
- Punk And Poetry
- Headbutt
- Save the World, Get the Girl (Radio Edit)
- My Boulder
- Mr Music Man
- Long Live the Struggle
- Modern Life Has Let Me Down
- Long Live the Struggle (Deluxe Version)
- VISIONS: All Areas, Volume 130
- Set the World On Fire
- Folk the Banks
- Punk & Poetry
- I Want You
- Holiday
- Holiday - EP (International)
- Live At the Roundhouse