Текст пісні
He needs a sat nav for the subconscious
Because he doesn't feel good when he's on this
And I don't know why
He's doing these drugs to get by
His guts gave up by the ranchers
He threw up by the church God curse this
Holy matrimony he's found
Between himself and getting high
Nail-bitten fingers, nervous dispositions
Common with day drinkers, unfortunate positions
So take him down Walton Vale
Needs a break, needs a drink
He's always on the ale
But did anyone think
If the gamble landed this time
Then It's probably time to leave
It's a pretty holy place for someone who's so sinful
And it always makes him think
But even more after a skinful
All these churches, all this time
All that Guinness, all those lines
He thought he's killing himself
Turns out that he's hurting her
Everybody knows him now he's part of the furniture
All that praying and all that hope
Poor old Oliver not being able to cope
Riddled with addiction, blurred double vision
Nail-bitten fingers, nervous dispositions
Take him down Walton Vale
Needs a break, needs a drink
He's always on the ale
But did anyone think
If the gamble landed this time
It's probably time to
Go down Walton Vale
Needs a break, needs a drink
He's always on the ale
But did anyone think
If the gamble landed this time
It's probably time to leave
He screams and slaps himself
An outward expression of the feeling inside
And no, it's not good for his health
But I was under the impression he had something to hide
He likes to think he's comfy
But he can't handle hassle
You'll see him in his best
From the Bull down to the Castle
Take him down Walton Vale
Needs a break, needs a drink