Lyrics

[Verse 1] There's a conversation not happening and a lack of real debate There's a sickening sound of silence around half past very late And the oak tree waves goodbye to every leaf that it may shed And there's so few things to do now my Mother's dead Controversy's taken holiday, outspoken's gone to sleep For different views on every news, you just won't hear a peep Ah, just what current climate needs like a massive hole in hеad And there's so much less to do now my Mothеr's dead [Chorus] So take my passport in your hand, but never you presume Cause I'm not British, I'm not English, I'm from my Mother's womb The following words I cry to thee, engrave them on my tomb Fuck being British, fuck being English; I'm from my Mother's womb, boom, boom, boom [Verse 2] Maybe it's a family trait, maybe just being Scouse She's loud as Heathrow Airport but quiet as a Baptist mouse Now the last pair of prettiest eyes have rolled back into head Nothing much to do around here now my Mother's dead And any hope we held for future has to be our kids Half as funny, hopefully; as brazen, God forbids Ah, wind your neck in, compromise, take safer route instead Not a chance of that now that my Mother's dead [Chorus] So take my passport in your hand, but never you presume Cause I'm not British, I'm not English, I'm from my Mother's womb The following words I cry to thee, engrave them on my tomb Fuck being British, fuck being English; I'm from my Mother's womb, boom, boom, boom [Bridge] That's what I thought when life support machine, it got turned off And opposing corner celebrates last bell She's either giving dear Diablo proper ticking off Or the angels up there in Heaven, hell [Outro] So take my passport in your hand But never you presume Cause I'm not British, I'm not English I'm from my Mother's womb