[Intro] [Loose indie rock jam fading in from crowd chatter, drums count in on the sticks, overdriven guitars hit a simple riff, bass locks in on the root before the vocal drops] [Verse 1] Walk in late to the gaff, coat stinkin of cigs Your mate in the kitchen neckin cheap swigs You lean on the wall like some budget rock star Same dead riff on your battered guitar Chatting “I’ve changed” by the sticky old bar But your eyes still chase whoever’s got a car My girls roll eyes, they know you’re a blag I swirl my drink and I call you a drag [Verse 2] You still dodge rounds when the card comes out Still cry “I’m skint” with your big boy mouth Same grey trackies, fake Air Max creased Chatting bare gas about “chasin the dream” Livin at your mom’s but you act so hench One clean shirt that still smells of Lynx Blame all your exes when you get too waved Then text me “bab” when you’re bored or caged [Hook] Bin him off, bin him off, he’s not that sick He’s all chat, all mouth, just a walkin ick He’s not my man, he’s a late night risk So jog on, babe, I am done with this Heart’s not broke, I am more than fine Got my girls, got tunes, got Friday night [Verse 3] Out on the floor when the band kicks in Glitter on my cheeks and a plastic grin You try sidle up with your knockoff charm Cold pint hands reaching for my arm I just laugh it off, take one more sip Say “Nah, you’re bless, but you’re not my trip” DJ drops bangers, we scream every line You look peak, mate, I look bostin fine [Hook] Bin him off, bin him off, he’s not that sick He’s all chat, all mouth, just a walkin ick He’s not my man, he’s a late night risk So jog on, babe, I am done with this Heart’s not broke, I am more than fine Got my girls, got tunes, got Friday night [Breakdown] [Drums strip back to kick and snare, bass and one muted guitar scratching the rhythm] (You know that lad that always says he’s “nearly there”?) (Still sleepin on his mom’s spare chair, init) You’re not deep, you’re not some lost soul You’re just lazy and a bit paro Crowd sings louder than your weak excuse Tonight I am free, you’re old bad news [Hook] Bin him off, bin him off, he’s not that sick He’s all chat, all mouth, just a walkin ick He’s not my man, he’s a late night risk So jog on, babe, I am done with this Heart’s not broke, I am more than fine Got my girls, got tunes, got Friday night [Outro] [Guitars ring on the main riff while the drums crash out, bass holds a long root note, crowd shouts and laughter bleed into the mix as everything fades]
