Текст песни
Let's
not
stand
on
ceremony
I
don't
like
you,
and
you
don't
own
me
And
this
game
stripped
down
to
the
basics
Is
wipin'
smiles
off
peoples'
faces
Step
inside
and
meet
the
bruisers
The
A-Team
lads
are
doin'
music
and
movement
They
are
under
no
illusion
There's
always
room
for
self-improvement
Bloodstains
on
the
brickwork,
tiles
smeared
with
shit
Still
life
on
a
cubicle
door,
cocks,
bums,
and
tits
The
lads
indulge
in
horseplay
in
the
showers
All
of
them
are
hung
like
donkeys,
but
with
almost
twice
the
mental
prowess
Tall,
blue-eyed,
white-skinned,
blonde-haired,
and
handsome
The
beefy
boys
in
the
hometown
team
clean
up
and
sing
their
anthem
But
not
forgetting
romance,
time
in
the
sack
Off-loading
of
the
missile
right
up
the
crack
The
lads
arrange
a
whip-round
for
some
flowers
A
very
nearly
sentimental
scene
is
the
normal
visiting
hours
Wet
the
baby's
hand
and
sing
the
anthem
Then
the
beefy
boys
set
off
in
search
of
some
new
heads
to
stamp
on
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