Released: August 15, 1981
Songwriter: James Honeyman-Scott Chrissie Hynde
Producer: Chris Thomas
You guys are the pits of the world
Oh, woah, woah, woah
This is no place for me
Burnin' down the innerbelt
From jacuzzi to jacuzzi
It's all right for you, man
Gettin' smashed, gettin' suntanned
But I know my place
Where's my suitcase?
Pack it up or throw it away
What I can't carry, bury
Oh you'll remember me
And I'll remember you
But that was a long, long time ago
When I was passin' through
All my family
All my friends
My lovers
I got to find them
My enemies
My new family
My new friends
My future enemies
I got to flush 'em out
So pack it all up
Nothing goes in storage
I'm burnin' every bridge
Burn, baby, burn
I see your dog got shot
Well, hell, never mind
That's show biz, big boy
You've got to be cruel to be kind
Oh, woah, woah, woah
Give over and admit it
I've been tearing down the interstate
Like some kind of bleeding git
It's all right for the boss
His gain's my loss
That gets me down
It really gets me down
So pack it up, cut the crap
When the clock starts talkin', I'll start walkin'
And when you pass in your Porsche
Please don't offer me a ride
I may be a skunk
But you're a piece of junk
And furthermore
I don't like your trousers
And your appalling taste in women
And what about your mind?
And your insipid record collection
That dumb home video center
The usual pornography
That all you scum lap up
You're the pits of the world
Oh, woah, woah, woah
This is no place for me
Burnin' down the innerbelt
From jacuzzi to jacuzzi
It's all right for you, man
Gettin' smashed, gettin' suntanned
But I know my place
Where's my suitcase?
Pack it up or throw it away
What I can't carry, bury
Oh you'll remember me
And I'll remember you
But that was a long, long time ago
When I was passin' through
All my family
All my friends
My lovers
I got to find them
My enemies
My new family
My new friends
My future enemies
I got to flush 'em out
So pack it all up
Nothing goes in storage
I'm burnin' every bridge
Burn, baby, burn
I see your dog got shot
Well, hell, never mind
That's show biz, big boy
You've got to be cruel to be kind
Oh, woah, woah, woah
Give over and admit it
I've been tearing down the interstate
Like some kind of bleeding git
It's all right for the boss
His gain's my loss
That gets me down
It really gets me down
So pack it up, cut the crap
When the clock starts talkin', I'll start walkin'
And when you pass in your Porsche
Please don't offer me a ride
I may be a skunk
But you're a piece of junk
And furthermore
I don't like your trousers
And your appalling taste in women
And what about your mind?
And your insipid record collection
That dumb home video center
The usual pornography
That all you scum lap up
You're the pits of the world
more tracks from the album
From the album
- Pretenders II (1981)
Pretenders popular songs
- Brass in Pocket
- I’ll Stand by You
- Don’t Get Me Wrong
- 2000 Miles
- Back on the Chain Gang
- Middle of the Road
- My City Was Gone
- Precious
- Alone
- Tattooed Love Boys
- I’m a Mother
- Kid
- I Hurt You
- My Baby
- Day After Day
- Up the Neck
- Hymn to Her
- Popstar
- Show Me
- Dance!
- Clean Up Woman
- Hold a Candle to This
- Mystery Achievement
- Love’s a Mystery