Transmetropolitan - The Pogues

In the rosy parks of England we’ll sit and have a drink

Of V P wine and cider 'till we can hardly think

And we’ll go where spirits take us to Heaven or to Hell

And kick up bloody murder in the town we love so well

Going transmetropolitan, yip-ay-aye

From the dear old streets of Kings Cross to the doors of the I C A

Going transmetropolitan, yip-ay-aye

We’ll drink the rat’s piss, kick the shite

And I’m not going home tonight, yip-ay-aye, yip-ay-aye

From Brixton’s lovely boulevards to Hammer Smith’s sightly shores

We’ll scare the Camden Palace poofs and worry all the whores

There’s lechers up in Whitehall and queers in the G L C

And when we’ve done those bastards in we’ll storm the BBC

Going transmetropolitan, yip-ay-aye

From Surrey Docks to Somers Town with a K M R I A

Going transmetropolitan, yip-ay-aye

We’ll drink the rat’s piss, kick the shite

And I’m not going home tonight, yip-ay-aye, yip-ay-aye

From five-bob bet in William Hills to a Soho sex-shop dream

From a fried egg in Valtaro’s to a Tottenham Court Road ice cream

We’ll spew and lurch, get nicked and fixed on the way we’ll kill and maim

When you haven’t got a penny, boys it’s all the bloody same

Going transmetropolitan, yip-ay-aye

From Pentonville Road on a sunset eve to the beauty that’s Mill Lane

Going transmetropolitan, yip-ay-aye

We’ll drink the rat’s piss, kick the shite

And I’m not going home tonight, yip-ay-aye, yip-ay-aye

This town has done us dirty, this town has bled us dry

We’ve been here for a long time and we’ll be here 'til we die

So we’ll finish off the leavings of blood and glue and beer

And burn this bloody city down in the summer of the year

Going transmetropolitan, yip-ay-aye

From Arlington House with a two bob bit to the Scottish shores today

Going transmetropolitan

We’ll drink the rat’s piss, kick the shite

And I’m not going home tonight, yip-ay-aye, yip-ay-aye, yip-ay-aye