(intro 2x)
In nineteen hundred and eighty six,
there?s not much for a chippie but swinging a pick.
And you can?t live on love, and on love alone,
so you sail cross the ocean, away cross the foam.
To where you re a Paddy, a Biddy or a Mick,
good for nothing but stacking a brick.
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 a flight.
Oh, I m missing you under Piccadilly s neon.
3. Who did you murder, are you a spy?
I m just fond of a drink, helps me laugh, helps me cry.
Now, I just drink red biddy for a permanent high,
I laugh a lot less and I ll cry till I die.
Oh, I m missing you, I d give all for the price of a flight.
Oh, I m missing you under Piccadilly s neon.
All ye young people, now take my advice,
before crossing the ocean you d better think twice.
Cause you can t live without love, without love alone,
the proof is round the West End in the nobody zone,
Where 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.
Oh, I m missing you, I d give all for the price of a flight.
Oh, I m missing you under Piccadilly s neon.
Oh, I m missing you, I d give all for the price of a flight.
Oh, I m missing you under Piccadilly s neon.
