После регистрации у Вас появится возможность добавлять сюда все понравившиеся на сайте материалы. Это будет Ваш персональный каталог песен, только для Вас. Так будет проще находить нужное при повторном посещении сайта.
In the earliest days of my shoplifting career,
You could safely say I was filled with fear.
It was nail biting work from the very start,
But several quick sucesses soon gave me heart.
After a while I could pick or nick or steal,
Some shirts some trousers and a few LPs.
No-one ever stopped me, they didn't seem to care.
It sometimes seemed to me that there was no-one there.
Then a fine summers day my mates and me,
Set off down the westend on our usual spree.
Things were as normal for an hour or so,
Then my nimble hands were a bit too slow.
Two store detectives made a fast approach,
One grabbed my jacket (you're nicked!)
The other grabbed my throat.
So they caught me at last, one said with joy:
"You'll have to do some time, my light fingered boy!"
If only I'd remembered my common sense,
They captured me red-handed with evidence.
If I go to the manager and say I'm sorry,
Maybe he'll forgive me for my youthful folly.
But what will me social worker say,
If I don't come home today?
He'll give me a clout!
What if they don't let me out?
I told him I'm on me own!
Don't they understand?
I'm from a broken home!
I'll tell them I'm the product of a broken home,
And I always went out on my own.
Was it too late to say I'd pay,
And I'll never steal again 'till the end of my days?
Because I have no friends to call as such,
Money and posessions I did not have much,
So I started to steal in order to get by.
The quickness of the hand deceives the eye.
deceives the eye the eye the eye...