Softboy McCoy

Softboy McCoy no one knows what is plan is
Four years now on the seekers allowance
The more he tries the less he makes it happen
At 5"4 you could say he was stocky
Eats with his mum but he lives with the bookie
He never buys a round unless he's winning
He corners men at the bar in the jockey
Talks about his youth career in footy
It fell apart when he fell off the wagon
And if you think about it
Everyone's the same
They don't change
Waiting for the weekend
Where his nose can meet his key
The only skill he has is Call of Duty 3
If he don't watch he'll be living in debris
Of what he used to be
Raised up on TV
At 4am when he's clattered and battered
Right hook, left jab, another nose shattered
A Sunday in the cell is his self-healing
And if you think about it
Everyone's the same
They don't change
Waiting for the weekend
Where his nose can meet his key
The only skill he has is Call of Duty 3
If he don't watch he'll be living in debris
Of what he used to be
Raised up on TV
Softboy McCoy he's the king of the small town
Flaunts his tag like he's wearing a gold crown
If only he could see them laughing at him
And if you think about it
Everyone's the same
They don't change
They won't change
Waiting for the weekend
Where his nose can meet his key
The only skill he has is Call of Duty 3
If he don't watch he'll be living in debris
Of what he used to be
Raised up on TV