got off the plane and went straight down to baker’s street
to meet this girl I met on myspace in 2003
she was an artsy fartsy film student and internet blogger
so i figured it’d be best to go pay her a visit and nog her
got up to her house around 7 or 8
and i said to the cabby, “yo mate, i’ll smell ya later”
but when i walked into the door and saw all the velour
i knew it was the same liverpool slut from before
hey
hey
don’t listen to what they say
hey
hey
don’t listen to what they say
they may seem hip and captivating
but liverpool sluts are always faking
as i ran out the door and headed for the shore
i remembered what me mum had taught me before
that if you’re gonna go play the tubesteak fandango
best not with a liverpool slut with extensive gangrow
hey
hey
don’t listen to what they say
hey
hey
don’t listen to what they say
they may seem hip and captivating
but liverpool sluts are always faking
i said what do you want from me?
when the liverpool slut’s around?