Dont bring that ghost 'round to my door

Dont bring that ghost 'round to my door
the chill in my bones doesn't hurt me anymore
theres nothing else for me to.... Bang,
so you can keep your fucking shoop de lang de lang

For another time, another place,
you see, i emerged from the rubble
and realised I'm not such a fucking waste
I still smell your perfume in the air
when you speak up and toss your maiden hair

Because when you and me
was reversing down that one way street
to reach the snakey road, Mr.Pete's palace of bone
i tried my very best, to keep you at arms length
but then you bring that ghost back to my door
when my bones haven't yet to thaw

Its a time where i think i can get by
without you, I've come down from the clouds above
sold my friends to get some tax back on knowing such fucking cunts
its the british way, not to air your negligee
though i have many stories to be told,
i doubt I'll be able to tell them when I'm withered and old

So dont bring that ghost 'round to my door
because Mrs.brown doesnt need me anymore
like i dont need her, i may have a dabble with her sister
Mrs.white, but i can handle her bark 'cause she never will bite