Lyric Sheets
The Boom-boy
The cult of the Boom-boys is sweeping Essex towns. Boom-boys drive vehicles with bass-heavy stereo systems that are sometimes louder than Concorde taking off. Ministers are considering drafting new laws to cope with the problem.
A pavement cracks
A streetlamp warps
The birds fall from a tree
A chunk of Walton's crumbling Naze
Shears off into the sea
A nodding dog implodes inside
A neighbour's 2CV
As Daz the Clacton Boom-boy
Throbs up the 133
The younger bruv
Of Essex man
And loudest thing around
With three grand's worth of Escort
And 10 grand's worth of sound
He cranks the bass-boost clockwise
His girlfriend goes knock-kneed
Her eyeballs strain in sockets
Her nose begins to bleed
The windscreen bows
Her fillings pop
As hair blows round her face
The seaside town begs let-up
From the bowel-shifting bass
It's tinnitus in seven days
When this one's on the case
Wicked Dazza. Wicked.
And get-well-soon to Trace.
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