Midnight Brighton Run

Bored to death at home because there’s nothing on T.V.
No Hiding Place is staring back at me
Skid lid on, kickstand off, take a swipe at the cat,
I’m going to find the excitement I lack

Midnight Brighton Run, Going for the ton, I’ll give her the gun, on a Midnight Brighton Run

Roll off the kerb, left at the lights, I’ll open it up then,
I gotta date with my baby in NW10
Were gonna get a fry up on a greasy tin tray,
It’s eggs beans and chips at the Ace Café

There’s a good crowd in – maybe a hundred or more,
I hear Gene Vincent as I push the door,
My girl’s there drinking coffee, but she’s got no dough,
She makes one cup last her an hour or so.

On the North Circular – my mates by my side
My baby behind me – on a midnight ride
Losing the streetlights – Brighton’s getting near
But the place is shut so we kip under the pier.

Nicked a pint off the milkman and kicked her into gear,
The sun is rising, lets get out of here,
Were all heading back home and the trips nearly done,
Back to The Ace – “I’ll have the full English son”