This song seemingly tackles the methods of deception those who manipulate others use to get victims to follow their demands, as well as diverting attention away from important issues. They'll also use it as a means to convince people to hate or kill others by pretending acts of terrorism were committed by the enemy when the acts themselves were done by the masters of control to promote discrimination and hate. It also reinforces the idea that these manipulative forces operate in various locations, infiltrating everyday life without detection, and propagate any and everywhere.
In general, it highlights the danger of hidden agendas, manipulation, and distraction, serving as a critique of those who exploit chaos and confusion to control and gain power, depicting a cautionary tale against falling into their traps. It encourages us to question the narratives presented to us and remain vigilant against manipulation in various parts of society.
Juveniles, hide your porno mags
The girl's got problems at her yard so she's packing up her bags full of rags
Her man got done from Pa Na Na
While the Madras still in the kitchen smokes a twenty-deck fags
Body bags come back on planes from war torn Iraq
It's the stark naked truth, a dark aftermath
Baby T, the juice and the dog just barks
Remember man the bully always had the last laugh
It was a blast last night down the old 12 Bar
White socks, black shoes with the ballads in the car
With a lump in the throat she won't understand
Twos on a cigarette and a talk blah blah
Bloody hell die oh bah da glug down liquor
Life goes on for all the day trippers
Starts off small but it's gonna get bigger
By the end of this letter it may all be better
Well she's always asking with the who, where and how
The girls say ooh la la
Well if I had another chance I'd do it differently now
And the girls say ooh la la la la la la la
From Trafalgar Square where the crack pipe reeking
To in your dark damp flat, the ceiling's leaking
You fell in love when you first started chatting
But got so bored cause she never stopped speaking
Consider this son on the bad behavior
He's keeping all the freebies, delivering the papers
You hate us, shake down fakers
Oh, you'll never get nowhere
Cause I'm the pacemaker
(Keepup, runny runny run run)
Pretty please me, oh, she's easy on the eye
Some say that today only the good young die
Ipee-oh-kai-yay, it's been right good day
I wanna ask questions but I don't mean to pry
How did you get to where you going to before you came slowly moseying through this bar?
You started your race, Jonny Cockeral wants his money
Give up the man he's a fruit and nut bar
(I'm serious, he's a real nutter)
Oh, I gotta see the GP, coughing up lungs
Doc says stop or you're going die young
I haven't even started to do what I done
You young don't listen, you just carry on
Well, we heard it before when your song got sung
Get a grip son
Why?
Cause you're always drunken
We're not captains just skivvy sunken
Humdrum drum, drum, live fast die young
Mr Skin stumbling, the road rocky
Trespassers on the private property
Remember back then it was the ranter banter
Young sons watched their young Pas get cancer
Vagabond Sandy crying out for he missed her
Missed her so much that he went drank the brewery
So sing-a-long Sam this is a song about you
We all went out and we got pissed-ola
I don't wanna fight he's a right big cunt
But the fellas say go on my son, my son
It's all a bit of fun 'til someone gets done
But the fellas say go on my son, my son
Well, I'm more likely to pick up and run
But the fellas say go on my son, my son
Ah fuck it, well, he's a right big cunt
But I'll knock him one, fuck that
Run, run
The girl's got problems at her yard so she's packing up her bags full of rags
Her man got done from Pa Na Na
While the Madras still in the kitchen smokes a twenty-deck fags
Body bags come back on planes from war torn Iraq
It's the stark naked truth, a dark aftermath
Baby T, the juice and the dog just barks
Remember man the bully always had the last laugh
It was a blast last night down the old 12 Bar
White socks, black shoes with the ballads in the car
With a lump in the throat she won't understand
Twos on a cigarette and a talk blah blah
Bloody hell die oh bah da glug down liquor
Life goes on for all the day trippers
Starts off small but it's gonna get bigger
By the end of this letter it may all be better
Well she's always asking with the who, where and how
The girls say ooh la la
Well if I had another chance I'd do it differently now
And the girls say ooh la la la la la la la
From Trafalgar Square where the crack pipe reeking
To in your dark damp flat, the ceiling's leaking
You fell in love when you first started chatting
But got so bored cause she never stopped speaking
Consider this son on the bad behavior
He's keeping all the freebies, delivering the papers
You hate us, shake down fakers
Oh, you'll never get nowhere
Cause I'm the pacemaker
(Keepup, runny runny run run)
Pretty please me, oh, she's easy on the eye
Some say that today only the good young die
Ipee-oh-kai-yay, it's been right good day
I wanna ask questions but I don't mean to pry
How did you get to where you going to before you came slowly moseying through this bar?
You started your race, Jonny Cockeral wants his money
Give up the man he's a fruit and nut bar
(I'm serious, he's a real nutter)
Oh, I gotta see the GP, coughing up lungs
Doc says stop or you're going die young
I haven't even started to do what I done
You young don't listen, you just carry on
Well, we heard it before when your song got sung
Get a grip son
Why?
Cause you're always drunken
We're not captains just skivvy sunken
Humdrum drum, drum, live fast die young
Mr Skin stumbling, the road rocky
Trespassers on the private property
Remember back then it was the ranter banter
Young sons watched their young Pas get cancer
Vagabond Sandy crying out for he missed her
Missed her so much that he went drank the brewery
So sing-a-long Sam this is a song about you
We all went out and we got pissed-ola
I don't wanna fight he's a right big cunt
But the fellas say go on my son, my son
It's all a bit of fun 'til someone gets done
But the fellas say go on my son, my son
Well, I'm more likely to pick up and run
But the fellas say go on my son, my son
Ah fuck it, well, he's a right big cunt
But I'll knock him one, fuck that
Run, run
Lyrics submitted by airfix-fighter
Pacemaker Lyrics as written by Jamie Alexander Treays
Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group
Lyrics powered by LyricFind
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I LOVE the noise at the beginning. and the way he says "Ah fuck it, well, he's a right big cunt" at the end of that verse.
xo