Tonalité : E major
Intro 1
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Verse 1
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Total
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Control Racing
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I was supposed to be going out,
that took ages
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Kids are hardcore, aren't they?
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They don't mess about
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Madhouse, chit-chat, duties,
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duties, more nappies
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Then I manage to get out
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The sharp night whistled around my coat,
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as I motioned up to the main road
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The wails of your offspring behind ya,
cracking window
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It's hard,
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innit, when you plan to do something
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But at that moment you realize
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it's not quite right
Not really something you
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should be doing tonight
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Well before me a few hellos,
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expectant mums with blokes that I know
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The bus whirred,
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three-fifty all-day ticket
ticket
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But I knew deep down I wasn't
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going to use it later
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Verse 2
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TCR
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Total Control Racing
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TCR
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Total Control Ra cing
Verse 3
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I arrange my coat on the front seat and
blend it in with the low lighting
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People on the way out too, talking
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Everyone still looks like Ena
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Sharples and Ray Reardon
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People need to move on
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That '50s look can do one
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Elvis has definitely left
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the fucking building
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I got a wine, large,
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shoved it down me, awful
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I hate the 5.8
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I thought about it, I thought about his face
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when I asked if he had any Rioja
He didn't like it
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Don't look at me like that
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Like you think I'm some wine twat
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I like it
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I sit in me house a lot
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Eventually you get an idea, little shit
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Go and listen to some fucking garage punk,
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you pointy little tit
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Verse 4
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TCR
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Total Control Racing
TCR
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Total Control Ra cing
Verse 5
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The sofa sank, I couldn't relax
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I felt cramped but luckily the table
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next to me got up and left
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And apart from the eight empty pint
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glasses they left on the table
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I thought it was the better bet, more upright
I ain't slouching,
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I'm not a beatnik
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Although, this pub did call
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for that kind of angle
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I hate going out,
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going out is for young people
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I can't sit and enjoy a drink,
I want the lot
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Have you got any numbers?
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And how much has he got?
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The trappings of luxury can't save you from the
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nail-biting boredom boredom of repetitive brain injury
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The injury of your useless mind,
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stuck to the track
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Clinging onto years of that's not yours that's mine,
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give me it
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Total Control Racing, TCR
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Going round and round,
under the bridges
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Slowing down, it's all about technique
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Hand shandy chic, under five second flat
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The tragedy of the male-less
fucking fucking man
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Verse 6
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TCR
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Total Control Ra cing
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TCR
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Total Control Ra cing
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TCR
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Total Control ra cing
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TCR
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Total Control Ra cing
Interlude 1
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Verse 7
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Total Control Racing
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Total Control Ra cing
Outro 1
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