LYRICS
Use A− / A+ to adjust text sizeFake Tales Of San Francisco
Fake Tales of San FranciscoEcho through the roomMore point to a wedding discoWithout a bride or groomThere's a super cool band yeahWith their trilbys and their glasses of white wineAnd all the weekend rock stars in the toiletsPracticing their linesI don't want to hear you(Kick me out, kick me out)I don't want to hear you no(Kick me out, kick me out)Fake Tales of San FranciscoEcho through the airAnd there's a few bored faces in the backAll wishing they weren't thereAnd as the microphone squeaksA young girl's telephone beepsYeah she's dashing for the exitshe's running to the streets outside"Oh you've saved me, " she screams down the line"The band weren't very goodAnd I'm not having a nice time"Yeah but his bird thinks it's amazing, thoughSo all that's leftIs the proof that love's not only blind but deafHe talks of San Francisco, he's from Hunter's BarI don't quite know the distanceBut I'm sure that's farI'm sure that's pretty farI'd love to tell you all my problemYou're not from New York City, you're from RotherhamSo get off the bandwagon, and put down the handbookGet off the bandwagon and put down the handbook
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