Hypervalue

What's the point in talking shit about the weather

If it stops me drinking and feeling worse not better

I try to hide the bills but they aren't going nowhere

The telephone keeps calling, but cheap whisky says I don't care

I get my kicks

I keep buying it

And I deal with shit

Coz I get my kicks at Hypervalue

The weekend comes I stay at home

My TV does the talking

Same again I am on my own

My mind does all the walking

Someone called if I go out

The drinks will come on credit

The sound outside to good to hide

I think I'll go out and get it

Surrounded by the crap that I don't need

Credit cards that make me bleed

Thats all I get in this town.