Missing You

(intro 2x) In nineteen hundred and eighty six, there’s not much for a chippie but swinging a pick. And you can’t live on love, and on love alone, so you sail cross the ocean, away cross the foam. To where you're a Paddy, a Biddy or a Mick, good for nothing but stacking a brick. Your best mate's a spade and he carries a hod, two work horses heavily shod. Oh, I'm missing you, I'd give all for the price of a flight. Oh, I'm missing you under Piccadilly's neon. 3. Who did you murder, are you a spy? I'm just fond of a drink, helps me laugh, helps me cry. Now, I just drink red biddy for a permanent high, I laugh a lot less and I'll cry till I die. Oh, I'm missing you, I'd give all for the price of a flight. Oh, I'm missing you under Piccadilly's neon. All ye young people, now take my advice, before crossing the ocean you'd better think twice. ‘Cause you can't live without love, without love alone, the proof is round the West End in the nobody zone, Where the summer is fine, but the winter's a fridge, wrapped up in old cardboard under Charing Cross Bridge. And I'll never go home now because of the shame, of a misfit's reflection in a shop window pane. Oh, I'm missing you, I'd give all for the price of a flight. Oh, I'm missing you under Piccadilly's neon. Oh, I'm missing you, I'd give all for the price of a flight. Oh, I'm missing you under Piccadilly's neon.