In the rosy parks of England. We'll sit and have a drink. Of VP wine and cider 'til we can hardly think. And we'll go where the spirits take us. To heaven or to hell. And kick up bloody murder in the town we love so well. Going transmetropolitan. From the dear old streets of King's Cross. To the doors of the ICA. Going transmetropolitan. We'll drink the rat's piss kick the shite. And I'm not going home tonight. From Brixton's lovely boulevards. To Hammersmith's sightly shores. We'll scare the Camden Palace poofs. And worry all the whores. There's leechers up in Whitehall. And queers in the GLC. And when we've done those bastards in. We'll storm the BBC. Going transmetropolitan. From Surrey Docks to Somers Town. With a KMRIA. Going transmetropolitan. We'll drink the rat's piss kick the shite. And I'm not going home tonight. From a 5 pound bet in William Hills. To a Soho sex-shop dream. From a fried egg in Valtaro's. To a Tottenham Court Road ice cream. We'll spew and lurch get nicked and fixed. On the way we'll kill and maim. When you haven't got a penny boys. It's all the bloody same. Going transmetropolitan. From Pentonville Road on a sunset eve. To the beauty that's Mill Lane. Going transmetropolitan. We'll drink the rat's piss kick the shite. And I'm not going home tonight. This town has done us dirty. This town has bled us dry. We've been here for a long time. And we'll be here 'til we die. So we'll finish off the leavings. Of blood and glue and beer. And burn this bloody city down. In the summer of the year. Going transmetropolitan. From Arlington House with a 2 bob bit. To the Scottish shores today. Going transmetropolitan. We'll drink the rat's piss kick the shite. And I'm not going home tonight.