the edge of cliffs feels all decayed,
cos all the punters stay away,
put off by negative reports,
of lairy bastards, mucky shores,
edge of cliffs filled terace houses,
lie low lills, unfaithful spouses,
dirty weekends by the sea,
and stains on sheets in B&Bs,
the sort of place you come to die,
its fucking grim no wonder why,
think i'll save you from the rest,
even the seagulls theyre depressed
I think this song is started by this poem.
the edge of cliffs feels all decayed, cos all the punters stay away, put off by negative reports, of lairy bastards, mucky shores, edge of cliffs filled terace houses, lie low lills, unfaithful spouses, dirty weekends by the sea, and stains on sheets in B&Bs, the sort of place you come to die, its fucking grim no wonder why, think i'll save you from the rest, even the seagulls theyre depressed