Your chances are running out
I can see possibilities clearly
The poor man who put those
Rumours about
Obviously didn't really hear me
Breaking our backs with slurs
And taking our tax for murdering
The only thing I know
She'll have to go
Your grass may be greener man
I was born on the pavement
I'm standing in
It's blue grass honey
It's a working man
It's more than all the things
That you're demanding
Breaking our backs with slurs
And taking our tax for murdering
The only thing I know
She'll have to go
Writer(s): Michael James Hucknall
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