It's A Mug's Game Lyrics - The Twelve Inch Singles - Soft Cell

Oh God, it's another night 

And your head is feeling like a lump of lead 

You should never have drunk those party-fours 

You should of been home being good instead 

Ever been in a deja vue and the end is the same again 

You ran out of your silver thins and you're trying to be so high class 

Though you need a bath and your hair's looking like string 

And though you're nearly broke you end up paying for all the drinks 

And you tell them, "Oh, it's nothing 

There's a million where those came from" 

And then you whisper to your longest suffering friend 

"Please lend me a few quid" 

Oh God, it's another day 

And your stomach's feeling like a blown-up balloon 

You should never have eaten that greasy food 

The doctor told you that chile was bad for your blood 

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And you're standing at the chemist in boots 

Coughing up your guts like you're at deaths door 

And all this for a packet of Do-Do's 

And the assistant gives you a wink and you turn bright red 

It's at time like this that you wish you were dead 

And you take the whole packet and you feel like you've drunk 

A bottle of bleach and you tell yourself 

"Never, never again, not until next week anyway" 

And you were never one for holding drink 

And you stagger off to the toilet 

And you throw up like it was Christmas 

And you miss the bowl and you hit your shoes 

And there's no paper towels, what else can go wrong for you 

It's a choice between a cab fare home and a packet of cigarettes 

So you choose and the money sticks in the machine 

And the manager says 

"Tough shit, drink up and leave" 

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Oh God, it's another disease 

And you just got rid of the last 

You were beginning to feel okay 

And the friends you gave it to were speaking to you again 

And you find yourself having sex in the back of the car 

And the girl underneath doesn't care who you are 

And you're nearly there and she still doesn't care 

And her chewing gum is getting stuck in your hair 

And there's something wrong 

Something that you forgot 

Oh shit, you've forgotten the rubber 

And you don't want a kid 

Well, deny it was you, oh Christ, if your dad finds out 

Then he'll make you stay in and do your homework 

And cut your hair and wear your school uniform out in the street 

What a fate worse than death 

Oh well, he can't hit you, you can hit him back 

And play your records so loud 

All the ones that he especially hates 

Deep Purple in Rock, Led Zeppelin II 

Well, even you hate those 

Well, on second thoughts 

I think I'll leave home and go and live in America 

Because they earn more money there 

And you can get away with murder, yeah 

Oh, this is a mugs game 

I can't wait until I'm twenty one 

And I can tell them all to sod off