Sorry, Not Sorry
Jealous, not jealous
Of your greasy pie and chips
Your kebab and all the trimmings
Your mango-scented vape
And your foaming pint of lager
Dripping across the sticky carpet-scape
Jealous, not jealous
Of your fortnight in Ibiza
With the other British Bulldogs
Soaking up a foreign sun
Showing off your copper spray-tan
Having noisy drunken fun
Jealous, not jealous
Of your hard-as-nails appearance
With your Peaky Blinders hair-cut
The best that Razor King can do
Your complementary facial piercings
And your lurid neck tattoos
Jealous, not jealous
Of your cert insider tip-off
From a bloke who works next door
For the three-thirty this afternoon
Not worth an each-way bet
Cash can’t come around too soon
Jealous, not jealous
As I stand behind you in the shop
Waiting with your copy of The Sun
Muscled t-shirted dude
Spending more on scratchcards
Than you ever do on food
Sorry, not sorry
That I cannot join your world
Glory in your nationalism
Or see things the way you do
You wouldn’t want me anyway
And I sure as hell don’t want you
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