Sellout

Let the towns crumble

Let them old buildings just decay

You won’t see them ever again but you got photos, so that’s okay

Let the pubs close down

Let the new builds take their place

I can’t believe you let the man wash the youth right off your face

They don’t want artists

They don’t want a place where we can think

Because thinking leads to thoughts of revolution and that’s where their ship sinks

The thing about art is we move with all classes and that makes us class less, and that’s far from harmless

You fucking sell out

You’re such a sell out

You fucking sell out

I can’t believe you sold out, you sell out

You sell out

You’re such a sell out

You fucking sell out

I can’t believe you sold out

What about you now?

The working mens clubs are shutting down

Where’s your old man gonna go, when your old dear kicks him out?

For the last time, your favourite venues shut its doors

It took Paul McCartney to save The 100 Club ,who’s gonna come save yours?

Where’s the Jolly Sailor? I want another all dayer

I want another weekender but all I see is property and pretenders

Hey big spenders, before your cash agendas passion burnt like embers