London treads down on you,
Puts it's boot right in your face,
Till one day you smell the coffee,
And you quit the f**king place,
I'm going to Brighton,
Riding on that midnight train,
And if she's there at the station,
I won't be coming back again.
Coach packed out to Croydon,
Where it thins out like you'd hope,
There's a lot of things in Croydon,
But there's clearly not much soap,
I'm going to Brighton...
Smell the burning passion,
All the way from Haywards Heath,
That's the thing about still waters,
You can't tell what lies beneath,
I'm going to Brighton...
Pulled up to the bumper,
Sea salt scents the midnight air,
See my girl there on the platform,
She's got glitter in her hair,
I'm going to Brighton...
Puts it's boot right in your face,
Till one day you smell the coffee,
And you quit the f**king place,
I'm going to Brighton,
Riding on that midnight train,
And if she's there at the station,
I won't be coming back again.
Coach packed out to Croydon,
Where it thins out like you'd hope,
There's a lot of things in Croydon,
But there's clearly not much soap,
I'm going to Brighton...
Smell the burning passion,
All the way from Haywards Heath,
That's the thing about still waters,
You can't tell what lies beneath,
I'm going to Brighton...
Pulled up to the bumper,
Sea salt scents the midnight air,
See my girl there on the platform,
She's got glitter in her hair,
I'm going to Brighton...