Death to the Lads - The Smith Street Band

Staying in a hotel full of pilots

I can’t believe that they are smoking

If you mastered the art of flight

Why would you spend half your time choking?

Sleeping in a bedroom full of arseholes

Surely means I am one too

And I wake up and I go walking

And I think the wrong thing about you

And it was the best idea we ever had

Picked up our spirits and we sang

Death to the lads

Death to the lads

Death to the lads

As loud as we possibly can

Along the most depressing highways

Ever dropped into the earth

Among the Confederate flag lower back tattoo

That is this part of the world

We’re raising pets and kids in car parks

In the light of drive-in ATMs

I learned to read the side effects

I am my own adverse reaction

And it was the best idea we ever had

Picked up our voices and we sang

Death to the lads

Death to the lads

Death to the lads

As loud as we possibly can

Death to the lads

Death to the lads

Death to the lads

Get out of my fucking face, mate

Things get better, but they never get good

Things get better, but they never get good

No, they never get good

I don’t do anything I said I would

For things get better, but they never get good

And we sang

Death to the lads

Death to the lads

Death to the lads

Get out of my fucking face, mate