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Leeds United - Luke Haines



     
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Leeds United Lyrics


When I get home my wife will kill me
She's so house proud, so don't tread dirt into the carpet
Stop for a pint in Chapeltown
Lights turn to red and then they go out
And for the price of five pounds
It's what the seventies were aboutLeeds United, Leeds United
From Wakefield to the Ridings
To the ground at Elland Road
At Leeds United they're chanting vengence, it's a 13-nil defeat on the front page of the Post
A last-minute substitution but we didn't have the talent
I was beaten, we were gutted, I was sick as a parrotLeeds United
Leeds United
Every Saturday night at the teddy boys' disco
It's good to be young
Leave the wife at home now
Propping up the bar, World Of Sport then fixing the car
You're on a mission from God
It's what the weekend's all aboutIt's good to be young now

Leeds United, Leeds United
Mark II Ford Cortina, Vauxhall Viva, Ford Corsair
On the terraces of Leeds United
One voice is silent, he's the man with jet-black hair
And come-to-bed eyes, that's what he had
It's just another wet Saturday afternoon with the ladsLeeds United
Leeds United
Leeds United
Leeds United
Little monsters run and roam
Little blighters in the carpet
They're hidden in the walls
In the attic and in the cupboards
And in the House of Lords
The Chamber of Horrors at Madame Tussauds
Out with the old, we've got to make room for them allLeeds United, Leeds United
There but for the grace of God we go
Leeds United, Leeds United
Bad season after season at Elland Road
Leeds United, Leeds UnitedNo leads for the West Yorkshire police
In Victorian Leeds, concrete Leeds
There's a killer on the terraces, better call in Doris Stokes
The devil came to Yorkshire in the Silver Jubilee
It could be Kendo Nagasaki, Jimmy Savile, or the QueenLeeds United
Leeds United
Leeds United
Leeds UnitedThe North, the North
Where we do what we want to
The North, the North
Where we do what we likeThe North, the North
Where we do what we want to
The North, the North
Where we do what we like
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Formerly of mid 90s electro-indie bands The Auteurs and Black Box Recorder, this legendary front man has gone solo with a hip-hop/pop pastiche sound to play to a well establised following of fans. Relentlessly highbrow, Haines's dark-but-mischievous lyrics typically fall into three groups: musings on obscure Anglicana (The Mitford Sisters, Freddie Mills is Dead), bitter attacks on modern society, particularly the arts (The Death of Sarah Lucas, Christ) and twisted 1970s anti-nostalgia (Leeds United, Here's to Old England) - with the odd dash of self-aggrandisement thrown in for good measure.

Read more about Luke Haines on Last.fm.


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Luke Haines