Oh Mother,
You're a bag of tricks going for fifty-sixth time lucky,
She says we're going east again cos we got no more west left at all.
Let's get suited and booted then,
How many guns can you fit in that handbag?
We're gonna rob that place on the corner,
Between Junction 13 and Q's tattoos,
Big scores these days,
Mother,
And for that,
I'm a trade my heart.
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