Out of bed at eight am Out my head by half past ten Out with mates and dates and friends That's what I do at weekends. I can't talk and I can't walk But I know where I'm going to go I'm going watch my money go At the Locarno. When my feet go through the door I know what my right arm is for Buy a drink and pull a chair Up to the edge of the dance floor. Bouncers bouncing through the night Trying to stop or start a fight I sit and watch the flashing lights Moving legs in footless tights. I go out on Friday night And I come home on Saturday morning I go out on Friday night And I come home on Saturday morning