Woke up in Blackpool at an ungodly hour
Wandered around looking for the tower
People turning up for breakfast looking like death
Zombie eyes heavy heads with acute morning breath
Started drinking at six and finished at four
No complaints as roommates fart and I snore
We went to a remote wasteland and shot each other madly
Exciting game, hunt the stag, he got bruising quite badly
Headed back out on the town all blokey and primate
Night club hotspot was the world famous Syndicate
Walking around again directionless asking woman and man
‘Is this the way to Syndicate’? We all jumped into the van
A seven-seater with twelve men in, but is this all of us?
Everyone was in the van but we’d forgotten little Russ
In the nightclub we bundled, it wouldn’t have been a choice of mine
Being handed pints and shots but craving a nice glass of wine
The vibrant club with lights and music, shining and booming in my head
Having a nice time but feeling old and longing for my bed.
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