It Ain’t Yours Anymore

Ooh, ooh-ooh, ooh-ooh, ooh-ooh Ah-ah, ah-ah, ah-ah-ah Would you call Epsom races with hordes of white faces Racist or Chevy or worse? And who calls a member of Parliament caught By Hempstead Heath police perverse Would you call Royal Ascot a meat market Like you do the places we go? 'Cause Henley Regatta, it don't really matter The yacht you got, but who you know? It's always Oxford versus Cambridge A boat race but much, much more Try turning up at Putney Bridge And soon you'll get to know the score You're Chelsea, you're Palace, you're Fulham But your feet won't touch the floor You sing, "This city's yours or I" Afraid it ain't yours anymore Ooh, ooh-ooh, ooh-ooh, ooh-ooh Ah-ah, ah-ah, ah-ah-ah You call the folk beneath plastic, fake, or cheap Apart from particular class Their vocal cords ruined by yelling, whose streets? But happy kissing honorable ass Whenever we go clubbing in a short dress You're the first to label and think Why do fools fall outta cabs And who let the lower class drink? It's always Oxford versus Cambridge A boat race but much, much more Try turning up at Putney Bridge And soon you'll get to know the score You're Chelsea, you're Palace, you're Fulham But your feet won't touch the floor You sing, "This city's yours or I" Afraid it ain't yours anymore I've seen West Ham and Orient, seen Millwall, QPR Sing, "This city's ours", as they are fuck-munched at the bar You sing, "This city's yours", never will be, never was And any claim you have to it ain't serious, because City's only yours to claim when your daughter's crossing street And neither roving eyes or predator nor whistle does she meet It's always Oxford versus Cambridge A boat race but much, much more Try turning up at Putney Bridge And soon you'll get to know the score You're Chelsea, you're Palace, you're Fulham But your feet won't touch the floor You sing, "This city's yours or I" Afraid it ain't yours anymore Afraid it ain't yours anymore Afraid it ain't yours anymore