Well I grew up with the understanding,
That I'd grow up to be like a man,
Have my drinks on Friday down the pub,
But I'd never seem to get drunk,
Drive a van with honest hands,
Wave to other drivers and they'd wave right back.
Cremate me
Cremate me
Cremate me
Cremate me
Poetry and local government,
Slurring songs and falling down,
I scratch your front door paint off with my keys,
As I attempt to let myself in,
Fast asleep the TV's on,
Woken up by Bob The Builder,
Can we fix it? No we can't.
Cremate me
Cremate me
Cremate me
Cremate me