To KTS, we got yas!
 

Trevor knocked three times, hard, on that empty head of
the security guard who messed up his weekend
and for Andy and Zoey it's all looking cosy
they run round the back, as the lads watch the cherry pop

Carlsberg export, glugging down straight vodka
fugly lad Steve, groped next to the parked cars
can't be done nowhere else the school kids laugh at him
but out on the town he takes it all on the chin
all got their complexes 'bout weight issues and complection,
their true colours shine through when they're pissed, hunting for affection
dress the same, they all look the same,
they got different names
but they're all on the game

Conversations with the vagrants as we lie on the benches,
simple talk about our 'enemies', hiding in our trenches
you only live once he says, lying on the concrete
but to the others he knows, he's just a mumble underneath their feet.